Father, we come not as of old,
Distrustful of Thy law,
Hoping to find Thy seam­less robe
Marred by some sud­den flaw—
Some rent to let Thy glo­ry through
And make our dark­ness shine,
If hap­ly thus our souls may know
What pow­er and grace are Thine.

Thy seam­less robe con­ceals Thee not
From ear­nest hearts and true;
The glo­ry of Thy per­fect­ness
Shines all its tex­ture through;
And on its trail­ing hem we read,
As Thou dost lin­ger near,
The mes­sage of a love more deep
Than any depth of fear.

And so no more our hearts shall plead
For mi­ra­cle and sign;
Thy or­der and Thy faith­ful­ness
Are all in all di­vine;
These are Thy re­ve­la­tions vast
From ear­li­est days of yore;
These are our con­fi­dence and peace;
We can­not wish for more.