At The Dawn

At the dawn I seek Thee,
  Rock and refuge tried,
In due service speak Thee
  Morn and eventide.

‘Neath Thy greatness shrinking,
  Stand I sore afraid,
All my secret thinking
  Bare before Thee laid.

  Little to Thy glory
Heart or tongue can do;
  Small remains the story,
Add we spirit too.

  Yet since man’s praise ringing
May seem good to Thee,
  I will praise Thee singing
While Thy breath’s in me.