LORD, Thou hast searched me; Thou hast known
My rising and my sitting down;
And from afar Thou knowest well
The very houghts that in me dwell.
Thou knowest all the ways I plan,
My path and lying down dost scan;
For in my tongue no word can be,
But, lo, O LORD, 'tis known to Thee.
Behind, before me, Thou dost stand
And lay on me Thy mighty hand;
Such knowledge is for me too strange
And high beyond my utmost range.
Where shall I from Thy Spirit flee,
Or from Thy presence hidden be?
In heav'n Thou art, if there I fly,
In death's a-bode, if there I lie.