A Prayer.
Giver of our every blessing,
Thou, for whose unceasing care,
Earth is still her praise addressing,
Hear thy little children's prayer.
Wisdom, with our stature grant us,
Goodness with each growing year,
Nor let folly's wiles enchant us
From our duty's sacred sphere.
Grant us hope when life is ending;
When the pulse forsakes the breast,
May our spirit, upward tending,
Father! in thy bosom rest.