O God, Thy pa­tience moves my soul
To see in Thee the way of life;
Thy pur­pose an un­fold­ing scroll
Of changes all with mean­ing rife.
Thy way is sure, with mea­sured beat,
The ages fol­low, one by one;
The world grows slow­ly in the heat
Of strife that welds good la­bors done.

O life, thou too must sow and wait;
Thy har­vest comes from soil pre­pared,
From pow’rs well trained to mas­ter fate
Thro’ ear­ly years of pur­pose dared.
The per­fect work, the friend­ships dear,
The whole-souled honor, just and brave,
The tri­umph ov­er tri­als dear,
Thy pa­tient faith will gain and save.

O soul, thy faith to pa­tience leads,
With vir­tu­ous strength thou canst con­trol
The way­ward self. The spir­it pleads
For life’s de­vo­tion to its goal.
Fulfillment comes with stea­dy gain;
The years of school­ing hard and long
Are worth their cost in strife and pain
That win the glo­ry of the strong.