O daughters blest of Galilee,
With Jesus chose ye well to be,
Thrice happy holy company.
O joy, to see that Master dear!
O joy, to live with Him so near!
O joy, that gentle voice to hear!
O more than joy, to that dear Lord,
In purest, deepest love adored,
All lowly service to afford.
Yea, happy was your lot to bring
In loyal homage to your king
Each free and gracious offering.
O Jesus, throned above the height,
Adoring troops of angels bright
Wait on Thy bidding day and night.
Thy sacred form we cannot see,
Yet, Lord, these hands may render Thee
Each lowly act of charity.
For while, ’mid want and woe we move,
And tend Thy poor in gentle love,
We minister to Thee above.
O gracious Jesus, we confess,
Our poor cold love, our nothingness:
Yet Thou wilt own, and Thou wilt bless.