O Thou, who hast at Thy command,
The hearts of all men in Thy hand!
Our wayward, erring hearts incline
To know no other will but Thine.
Our wishes, our desires control;
Mould every purpose of the soul;
O'er all may we victorious be,
That stands between ourselves and Thee.
Thrice blest 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.