O Thou, Who hast at
Thy command
The hearts of all
men in Thy hand,
Our wayward, erring
hearts incline
To have no other
will but Thine.
Our wishes, our
desires, control;
Mold every purpose
of the soul;
O’er all may we
victorious prove
That stands between
us and Thy love.
Thrice blest
will all our
blessings be,
When we can look
through them to
Thee;
When each glad
heart its tribute
pays
Of love and
gratitude and
praise.
And while we to
Thy glory live,
May we to Thee all
glory give,
Until the final
summons come,
That calls Thy
willing servants
home.
