Fountain of good, to own Thy love,
Our thank­ful hearts in­cline;
What can we ren­der, Lord, to Thee,
When all the worlds are Thine?

But Thou hast needy breth­ren here,
Partakers of Thy grace,
Whose names Thou wilt Thy­self con­fess
Before the Fa­ther’s face.

And in their accents of dis­tress
Thy plead­ing voice is heard;
In them Thou may’st be clothed and fed
And vi­sit­ed and cheered.

Thy face with re­ver­ence and with love
We in Thy poor would see;
O may we min­is­ter to them,
And in them, Lord, to Thee.