Behold us, Lord, a little space

From daily tasks set free,

And met within thy holy place

To rest awhile with thee.

Around us rolls the ceaseless tide

Of business, toil, and care;

And scarcely can we turn aside

For one brief hour of prayer.

Yet these are not the only walls

Wherein thou mayst be sought;

On homeliest work thy blessing falls,

In truth and patience wrought.

Thine is the loom, the forge, the mart,

The wealth of land and sea,

The worlds of science and of art,

Revealed and ruled by thee.

Then let us prove our heavenly birth,

In all we do and know;

And claim the kingdom of the earth

For thee and not thy foe.

Work shall be prayer, if all be wrought

As thou wouldst have it done,

And prayer, by thee inspired and taught,

Itself with work be one.

Amen.