Let me not die before I've done for thee
My earthly work, whatever it may be;
Call me not hence with mission unfulfilled;
Let me not leave my space of ground untilled;
Impress this truth upon me, that not one
Can do my portion that I leave undone.
Then give me strength all faithfully to toil,
Converting barren earth to fruitful soil.
I long to be an instrument of thine
For gathering worshipers into thy shrine:
To be the means one human soul to save
From the dark terrors of a hopeless grave.
Yet most I want a spirit of content
To work where'er thou'lt wish my labor spent,
Whether at home or in a stranger's clime,
In days of joy or sorrow's sterner time;
I want a spirit passive to be still,
And by thy power to do thy holy will.
And when the prayer unto my lips doth rise,
"Before a new home doth my soul surprise,
Let me accomplish _some great work_ for thee,"
Subdue it, Lord; let my petition be,
"O make me useful in this world of thine,
In ways according to thy will, not mine."