Father of love, our guide and friend,
O lead us gent­ly on,
Until life’s tri­al time shall end,
And heav’n­ly peace be won.

We know not what the path may be
As yet by us un­trod;
But we can trust our all to Thee,
Our Fa­ther and our God.

If called, like Ab­raham’s child, to climb
The hill of sac­ri­fice,
Some an­gel may be there in time;
Deliverance shall arise.

Or, if some dark­er lot be good,
O teach us to en­dure
The sor­row, pain or so­li­tude,
That makes the spir­it pure.

Christ by no flow­ery path­way came;
And we, His fol­low­ers here,
Must do Thy will and praise Thy name,
In hope, and love and fear.

And, till in Heav’n we sin­less bow,
And fault­less an­thems raise,
O Fa­ther, Son, and Spir­it, now,
Accept our fee­ble praise.