Lord, with glowing heart I'd praise thee For the bliss thy love bestows, For the pardoning grace that saves me, And the peace that from it flows. Help, O God! my weak endeavor, This dull soul to rapture raise; Thou must light the flame, or never Can my love be warmed to praise. Praise, my soul, the God that sought thee, Wretched wanderer, far astray; Found thee lost, and kindly brought thee From the paths of death away. Praise, with love's devoutest feeling, Him who saw thy guilt-born fear, And, the light of hope revealing, Bade the blood-stained cross appear. Lord! this bosom's ardent feeling Vainly would my lips express; Low, before thy foot-stool kneeling, Deign thy suppliant's prayer to bless Let thy grace, my soul's chief treasure, Love's pure flame within me raise; And, since words can never measure, Let my life show forth thy praise.
Where I found this: New York Times, June 17, 1914, article about plans for Baltimore's centennial celebration of The Star-Spangled Banner that fall.