Thou, Lord of life, our sav­ing health,
Who mak’st Thy suf­fer­ing ones our care;
Our gifts are still our tru­est wealth,
To serve Thee our sin­cer­est pray­er.

As on the ri­ver’s ris­ing tide
Flow strength and cool­ness from the sea,
So through the ways our hands pro­vide,
May quick­en­ing life flow in from Thee;

To heal the wound, to still the pain,
And strength to fail­ing puls­es bring,
Till the lame feet shall leap again,
And the parched lips with glad­ness sing.

Bless Thou the gifts our hands have brought!
Bless Thou the work our hearts have planned,
Ours is the faith, the will, the thought;
The rest, O God, is in Thy hand.