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by Eliza Wolcott

Hasten then, from worldly cares,
Hasten from these growing tares,
Hasten to your God in prayer,
Leave to Him your every care.

Days and years He still protects thee,
Tendering you his proffer'd grace;
Own us, dear Lord; we bow the knee,
And all thy goodness love to trace.

'Tis wondrous to behold such kindness
Patient, listening to our cries;—
Taking off our moral blindness,—
Knowing all our inmost sighs.

Blessed Lord, we now surrender
All we have to thine own will;
Let us prize these notions tender,—
Lord, own us for thy children still.

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