Since life in sorrow must be spent,

So be it—I am well content,

And meekly wait my last remove,

Seeking only growth in love.

No bliss I seek, but to fulfil

In life, in death, thy lovely will;

No succours in my woes I want,

Save what thou art pleased to grant.

Our days are numbered, let us spare

Our anxious hearts a needless care:

'Tis thine to number out our days;

Ours to give them to thy praise.

Love is our only business here,

Love, simple, constant, and sincere;

O blessed days, thy servants see,

Spent, O Lord! in pleasing thee!