God, who cre­at­ed me nim­ble and light of limb,
In three ele­ments free, to run, to ride, to swim;
Not when the sense is dim, but now from the heart of joy,
I would re­mem­ber Him; take the thanks of a boy.

Jesu, King and Lord, whose are my foes to fight,
Gird me with Thy sword, swift and sharp and bright.
Thee would I serve if I might, and con­quer if I can:
From day-dawn to night, take the strength of a man.

Spirit of love and truth, breath­ing in gross­er clay,
The light and flame of youth, de­light of men in the fray,
Wisdom in strength’s de­cay; from pain, strife, wrong to be free
This best gift I pray, take my spi­rit to Thee.