O Thou, our Sav­ior, bro­ther, friend,
Behold a cloud of in­cense rise;
The pray­ers of saints to Hea­ven as­cend,
Grateful, ac­cept­ed sac­ri­fice.

Regard our pray­ers for Zi­on’s peace;
Shed in our hearts Thy love abroad;
Thy gifts abun­dant­ly in­crease;
Enlarge, and fill us all with God.

Before Thy sheep, great Shep­herd, go,
And guide into Thy per­fect will;
Cause us Thy hal­lowed name to know,
The work of faith in us ful­fill.

Help us to make our call­ing sure;
O let us all be saints in­deed,
And pure, as Thou Thy­self art pure,
Conformed in all things to our head.

Take the dear pur­chase of Thy blood:
Thy blood shall wash us white as snow;
Present us sanc­ti­fied to God,
And per­fect­ed in love be­low.