The Prayers I Make Will Then Be Sweet Indeed If Thou The Spirit Give By Which I Pray: My Unassisted Heart Is Barren Clay, That Of Its Native Self Can Nothing Feed: Of Good And Pious Works Thou Art The Seed, That Quickens Only Where Thou Say'St It May: Unless Thou Show To Us Thine Own True Way No Man Can Find It: Father! Thou Must Lead. Do Thou, Then, Breathe Those Thoughts Into My Mind By Which Such Virtue May In Me Be Bred That In Thy Holy Footsteps I May Tread; The Fetters Of My Tongue Do Thou Unbind, That I May Have The Power To Sing Of Thee, And Sound Thy Praises Everlastingly.