To veil Thy truth by dark’n­ing or by hid­ing;
To stand ir­re­so­lute, or shrink ap­palled;
To deal vague words of cus­to­mary chid­ing;
Father! to no such work Thy voice hath called.

Our eyes are dim, yet can we seek the du­ty;
Our ears are dull, yet we can shun the wrong;
’Tis not in vain that here, amid the beau­ty
Of Thy deep teach­ings, we have stayed so long.

Some wounds have turned to pearls; some limbs of­fend­ing
We had the strength to seize and rend away;
Some pas­sioned earth­ly songs have changed, in end­ing,
To chor­al an­them and tri­umph­ant lay.

To build of gen­tle hearts Thy church, the peer­less,
To speak the truth in love, what­e’er be­falls,
To make our bro­thers hum­ble, tire­less, fear­less,
This is the work to which Thy Spir­it calls.

Some seeds we sow may blos­som in­to flow­ers,
And those bear fruit, to rip­en ’neath Thy sun;
And Thou wilt lead these trem­bling hearts of ours
On to that peace where and aim and deed grow one.