Great mov­er of all hearts, whose hand
Doth all the sec­ret springs com­mand
Of human thought and will,
Thou, since the world was made, dost bless
Thy saints with fruits of ho­li­ness,
Their or­der to ful­fill.

Faith, hope, and love here weave one chain;
But love alone shall then re­main
When this short day is gone:
O love, O truth, O end­less light,
When shall we see Thy Sab­bath bright
With all our la­bors done?

We sow ’mid pe­rils here and tears;
There the glad hand the har­vest bears,
Which here in grief hath sown:
Great Three in One, the in­crease give;
Thy gifts of grace, by which we live,
With hea­ven­ly glo­ry crown.