Thou gra­cious Pow­er, whose mer­cy lends
The light of home, the smile of friends,
Our fa­mi­lies in Thine arms en­fold
As in the peace­ful days of old.

Wilt Thou not hear us while we raise,
In sweet ac­cord of so­lemn praise,
The voices that have min­gled long
In joy­ous flow of mirth and song?

For all the bless­ings life has brought,
For all its sor­row­ing hours have taught,
For all we mourn, for all we keep,
The hands we clasp, the loved that sleep.

The noon­tide sun­shine of the past,
These brief, bright mo­ments fad­ing fast,
The stars that gild our dark­en­ing years,
The twi­light ray from ho­li­er spheres.

We thank Thee, Fa­ther; let Thy grace
Our nar­row­ing circle still em­brace,
Thy mer­cy shed its hea­ven­ly store,
Thy peace be with us ev­er­more.