Show pi­ty, Lord, for we are frail and faint;
We fade away, O list to our com­plaint;
We fade away like flow­ers in the sun,
We just be­gin, and then our work is done.

Show pi­ty, Lord, our souls are sore dis­tressed;
As trou­bled seas, our na­tures have no rest;
As trou­bled seas, that surg­ing, beat the shore,
And throb and heave, ev­er and ev­er­more.

Show pi­ty, Lord, our grief is in our sin;
We would be cleansed, O make us pure with­in;
We would be cleansed, for this we cry to Thee;
Thy word of love can make the con­science free.

Show pi­ty, Lord: In­spire our hearts with love;
That ho­ly love which draws the soul above;
That ho­ly love which makes us one with Thee,
And with Thy saints through all eter­n­ity.