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C. M.


Doing All to God.

Shine on our souls, Eternal God,

With rays of beauty shine;

O, let Thy favor crown our days,

And all their round be Thine!

Did we not raise our hands to Thee,

Our hands might toil in vain;

Small joy success itself could give

If Thou Thy love restrain.

With Thee let every week begin,

With Thee each day be spent,

For Thee each fleeting hour improved,

Since each by Thee is lent.

Midst hourly cares may love present

Its incense at Thy throne;

And while the world our hands employs,

Our hearts be Thine alone.

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