When I am discouraged in my ministry

            and full of doubts of my self,

   fasten me upon the rock of thy eternal election,

     then my hands will not hang down,

     and I shall have hope for myself and others.

Thou dost know thy people by name,

   and wilt at the appointed season

     lead them out of a natural to a gracious state

       by thy effectual calling.

This is the ground of my salvation,

   the object of my desire,

   the motive of my ministry.

Keep me from high thoughts of myself

     or my work,

   for I am nothing but sin and weakness;

     in me no good dwells,

     and my best works are but sin.

Humble me to the dust before thee.

Root and tear out the poisonous weed

     of self-righteousness,

   and show me my utter nothingness;

Keep me sensible of my sinnership;

Sink me deeper into penitence and self-abhorrence;

Break the Dagon of pride in pieces

     before the ark of thy presence;

Demolish the Babel of self-opinion,

     and scatter it to the wind;

Level to the ground my Jericho walls

     of a rebel heart;

Then grace, grace, will be my experience and cry.

I am a poor, feeble creature when faith

     is not in exercise,

   like an eagle with pinioned wings;

Grant me to rest on thy power and faithfulness,

   and to know that there are two things

     worth living for:

   to further thy cause in the world,

   and to do good to the souls and bodies of men;

This is my ministry, my life, my prayer, my end.

Grant me grace that I shall not fail.