1 O Thou! who hast at thy command
The hearts of all men in thy hand;
Our wayward, erring hearts incline
To have no other will but thine.

2 Our wishes, our desires control;
Mould every purpose of the soul,
O'er all may we victorious prove
That stands between us and thy love.

3 Thrice blessed will all our blessings be,
When we can look through them to thee;
When each glad heart its tribute pays
Of love and gratitude and praise.

4 And while we to thy glory live,
May we to thee all glory give,
Until the final summons come
That calls thy willing servants home.