In the hush of ear­ly morn­ing,
When the breeze is whis­per­ing low,
There’s a voice that gent­ly calls me,
And its ac­cents well I know;
Here I am, O Sav­ior, wait­ing,
For Thy will alone is mine;
This is all my crown and glo­ry:
I am Thine, and on­ly Thine.

When the noon­tide falls upon me,
With its fer­vid light­en­ing ray,
There’s a voice di­vine­ly ear­nest,
Bids me work while it is day;
Open, Sav­ior, now be­fore me
All Thy will for me to do;
Only help me, watch­ing, work­ing,
Still to keep my Lord in view.

As the dewy shades steal down­ward
O’er the earth at ev­en­ing mild,
There’s a voice I love that whis­pers,
After la­bor, rest, My child.
O my Sav­ior, lov­ing, ten­der,
Help me to ac­count it blest
Thus to work with­in Thy vine­yard,
Till Thou call­est me to rest.