O Lamb of God, that tak’st away
Our sin, and bidd’st our sor­row cease,
Turn Thou, oh, turn this night to day,
Grant us Thy peace.

The trou­bled world hath war with­out;
The rest­less, way­ward heart with­in
Hath fear and wea­ri­ness and doubt,
And death and sin.

And there are needs that none can know,
And tears no eye but Thine can see;
Hopes naught can sa­tis­fy be­low;
We look to Thee.

’Tis not the calm, de­ceit­ful dream
That earth calls peace, we ask for now;
No drop­ping down the fa­tal stream
With care­less prow.

Probe deep the wound if so Thou wilt,
If pain must wake us. Purge our dross:
Help us to lay our load of guilt
Beneath Thy cross.

That we amid the toil and strife
And storms that ne­ver end be­low,
Through all the change and chance of life,
Thy peace may know.

The peace that is not ours but Thine—
O, safe and true and death­less thus—
’Gainst which all storms in vain com­bine;
Grant, grant to us.