A BROKEN altar, Lord, thy servant reares, Made of a heart, and cemented with teares: Whose parts are as thy hand did frame; No workmans tool hath touch'd the same. A heart alone Is such a stone, As nothing but Thy pow'r doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame, To praise thy name: That, if I chance to hold my peace, These stones to praise thee may not cease. O let thy blessed sacrifice be mine, And sanctifie this altar to be thine. |