O, for a faith that will not shrink,
Though pressed by ev­ery foe,
That will not trem­ble on the brink
Of po­ver­ty or woe!

That will not mur­mur nor com­plain
Beneath the chast­en­ing rod;
But in the hour of grief or pain,
Will lean up­on its God.

A faith that shines more bright and clear
When tem­pests rage witho­ut;
That when in dan­ger knows no fear;
In dark­ness feels no doubt.

That bears un­moved, the world’s dread frown
Nor heeds its scorn­ful smile;
That sin’s wild ocean can­not drown,
Nor its soft arts be­guile.

A faith that keeps the nar­row way
Till life’s last spark is fled,
And with a pure and hea­ven­ly ray
Lights up a dy­ing bed.

Lord, give me such a faith as this,
And then, whate’er may come,
I’ll taste, e’en here, the hal­lowed bliss
Of an eter­nal home.