1 Thou Maker of our mortal frame--
Of all thy works the noblest far,
We bow before thy righteous claim
To all we have, and all we are.

2 Our tongues were fashioned for thy word,
Our hands to do thy will divine;
Our bodies are thy temple, Lord,
The mind's immortal powers are thine.

3 Its highest thought--to trace thy skill,
Its purest love, on thee to rest,
Its noblest action of the will,
To choose thy service, and be blest.

4 Our ransomed spirits rise to thee--
Unfailing source of light and joy!
Thy love has made thy children free,
Thy praise shall life and strength employ.

5 Give grace and mercy to the end--
For we are thine and not our own:
So shall we to thy courts ascend,
And cast our crowns before thy throne.