Words: , Hymns and Sac­red Po­ems, 1749.

William Ar­thur says that on Dr. Pun­shon’s last vi­sit to Cannes, in March, 1881, ‘Mem­bers of my fam­i­ly told me of the de­light­ful spir­its he seemed to be in dur­ing an ex­cur­sion on the Es­té­rel Mount­ains, and es­pe­cial­ly of the in­ter­est with which, on ano­ther day, he watched the pro­cess of man­u­fac­tur­ing in por­ce­lain at Vall­aur­is. As the pot­ter out of his lump evolved form aft­er form, he watched in­tent­ly un­til tears ran down his cheeks, and then said in his own tell­ing tones—tones they would have never have for­got­ten, even if they had not been so sol­emn­ly called to mind a lit­tle while aft­er­wards—“Mould as Thou wilt Thy pass­ive clay.”’

Music: Sa­gi­na (Short), , Bou­quet, 1825.

Behold the servant of the Lord!
I wait Thy guiding eye to feel,
To hear and keep Thy every word,
To prove and do Thy perfect will,
Joyful from my own works to cease,
Glad to fulfill all righteousness.

Me if Thy grace vouchsafe to use,
Meanest of all Thy creatures, me,
The deed, the time, the manner choose,
Let all my fruit be found of Thee;
Let all my works in Thee be wrought,
By Thee to full perfection brought.

My every weak, though good design,
O’errule, or change, as seems Thee meet;
Jesus, let all my work be Thine!
Thy work, O Lord, is all complete,
And pleasing in Thy Father’s sight;
Thou only hast done all things right.

Here then to Thee Thy own I leave;
Mold as Thou wilt Thy passive clay;
But let me all Thy stamp receive,
But let me all Thy words obey,
Serve with a single heart and eye,
And to Thy glory live and die.