O God, Thou faith­ful God,
Thou fount­ain ev­er flow­ing,
Without whom no­thing is,
All per­fect gifts be­stow­ing,
Grant me a heal­thy frame,
And give me, Lord, with­in,
A con­science free from blame,
A soul un­hurt by sin.

And grant me, Lord, to do,
With rea­dy heart and will­ing,
Whate’er Thou shalt com­mand,
My call­ing here ful­fill­ing;
And do it when I ought,
With zeal and joy­ful­ness,
And bless the work I’ve wrought,
For Thou must give suc­cess.

Oh, let me ne­ver speak
What bounds of truth ex­ceed­eth;
Grant that no idle word
From out my mouth pro­ceed­eth;
And then, when in my place
I must and ought to speak,
My words grant pow­er and grace
Lest I of­fend the weak.

If dang­ers ga­ther round,
Still keep me calm and fear­less;
Help me to bear the cross
When life is dark and cheer­less,
To ov­er­come my foe
With words and act­ions kind;
When coun­sel I would know,
Good coun­sel let me find.

And let me with all men,
As far as in me li­eth,
In peace and friend­ship live,
And if Thy gift sup­pli­eth
Great wealth and hon­or fair,
Then this re­fuse me not,
That naught be min­gled there
Of goods un­just­ly got.

If Thou a long­er life
Hast here on earth de­creed me;
If Thou through ma­ny ills
To age at length wilt lead me,
Thy pa­tience on me shed.
Avert all sin and shame
And crown my hoa­ry head
With hon­or free from blame.

Let me de­part this life
Confiding in my Sav­ior;
Do Thou my soul re­ceive
That it may live for­ev­er;
And let my bo­dy have
A qui­et rest­ing place
Within a Chris­tian grave;
And let it sleep in peace.

And on that so­lemn day
When all the dead are wak­ing,
Stretch o’er my grave Thy hand,
Thyself my slum­bers break­ing.
Then let me hear Thy voice,
Change Thou this earth­ly frame,
And bid me aye re­joice
With those who love Thy name.