Father of love, our Guide and Friend, We know not what the path may be If called, like Abraham’s child, to climb Or, if some darker lot be good, Christ by no flowery pathway came; And, till in Heav’n we sinless bow,
O lead us gently on,
Until life’s trial time shall end,
And heav’nly peace be won.
As yet by us untrod;
But we can trust our all to Thee,
Our Father and our God.
The hill of sacrifice,
Some angel may be there in time;
Deliverance shall arise.
O teach us to endure
The sorrow, pain or solitude,
That makes the spirit pure.
And we, His followers here,
Must do Thy will and praise Thy Name,
In hope, and love and fear.
And faultless anthems raise,
O Father, Son, and Spirit, now,
Accept our feeble praise.
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