Hymn CCXLVIII. Long Metre. The Vanity of Forms without Virtue

Th' uplifted eye, and bended knee Are but vain homage, Lord, to thee; In vain our lips thy praise prolong, The heart a stranger to the song.

Can rites and forms and flaming zeal The breaches of thy precepts heal? Can fasts and penance reconcile Thy justice and obtain thy smile?

The pure, the humble, contrite mind, Thankful, and to thy will resign'd, To thee a nobler off'ring yields, Than Sheba's groves or Sharon's fields.

Than floods of oil, or costly wine, Rolling by thousands to thy shrine, Or than if to thine altar led, A first born son the victim bled.

"Be just and kind and humble too, In all you say, in all you do; To men your charity impart, And love your God with all your heart."

This truth by ancient prophets given, Was by thy Son, confirm'd from heaven; And deep engrav'd, this great command, Doth on eternal pillars stand.