O God, Thou Po­ten­tate of all,
Upon Thy fi­at we would call,
And pray that as the die is cast,
Thy grace may guide us to the last!
Grant us a race of stal­wart men
To lead in pub­lic life again,
Prophetic, no­ble, grand in dow­er—
Such, Lord, ex­alt to thrones of pow­er.

Put far from each the self­ish aim,
The lure of spoils, the zest of fame;
With sin­gle heart and hon­est hand
May they bear rule through­out the land;
The shows of state, the sport of kings,
May they ac­count but pal­try things,
And de­di­cate their hearts and days
To Thy vast sov­er­eign­ty and praise.

In all their coun­cils and their laws,
Unmoved by scorn or vain ap­plause,
May they seek dai­ly to ful­fill
The pur­pose of Thy per­fect will;
And thus, as chang­ing cy­cles run,
And er­as pass from sun to sun,
May right­eous­ness gird all our frame,
And ge­ne­ra­tions bless Thy name!