Ver. 96. paraphrased. 1 Let all the heathen writers join To form one perfect book, Great God, if once compar'd with thine, How mean their writings look!
2 Not the most perfect rules they gave Could shew one sin forgiven, Nor lead a step beyond the grave; But thine conduct to heaven.
3 I've seen an end of what we call Perfection here below; How short the powers of nature fall, And can no farther go!
4 Yet men would fain be just with God By works their hands have wrought; But thy commands, exceeding broad, Extend to every thought.
5 In vain we boast perfection here, While sin defiles our frame, And sinks our virtues down so far, They scarce deserve the name.
6 Our faith and love, and every grace, Fall far below thy word; But perfect truth and righteousness Dwell only with the Lord.