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From Thee descends whate'er of joy or peace
Sparkles in my full cup—health, hope, and bliss,
And pure parental love; beneath whose smile
A heart call'd lonely, doth not feel the loss
Of brother, or of sister, or of friend.

So, unto Thee be all the honor given,
Whether young Morning with her vestal lamp
Warn from my couch—or sober twilight gray
Yield to advancing Night; or summer sky
Spread its smooth azure; or contending storms
Muster their wrath; or whether in the shade
Of much-loved solitude, deep-wove and close
I rest; or gayly share the social scene,
Or wander wide to wake in stranger-hearts
New sympathies; or wheresoever else
Thy hand shall lead, still let my steadfast eye
Behold Thee, and my heart attune Thy praise.

To Thee alone, in humble trust I come
For strength and wisdom. Leaning on thine arm
Oh let me pass this intermediate state,
This vale of discipline; and when its mists
Shall fleet away, I trust Thou wilt not leave
My soul in darkness, for Thy word is truth,
Nor are Thy thoughts like the vain thoughts of man,
Nor Thy ways like his ways.
Therefore I rest
In peace—and sing Thy praise, Father Supreme.