O You that tries mens hearts,
How vile I must be in Your eyes.
When I behold the success of others,
that You have blessed,
then I find an occasion for envy.
I am jealous of those who gain,
that for which my own soul lusts.
It matters not if the object is righteous,
for my desiring of it is not just.
Why am I not instead content with your will?
Why do I not instead rejoice?
I am one, small man,
out of billons upon the Earth.
Who am I that I should
seek to increase my worth?
Lord, is it not all because
I have not found all my contentment in Thee?
If You were my full joy,
what else should I desire?
If You were all my soul's value,
what else could bring me worth?
Lord, You have made trillions
upon trillions of stars.
Make me, by Your special act of grace,
content in Thee.