O Thou, who art above all height!
Our God, our Fa­ther, and our friend!
Beneath Thy throne of love and light,
Let Thine ad­or­ing child­ren bend.

We kneel in praise, that here is set
A vine that by Thy cul­ture grew;
W kneel in pray­er, that Thou wouldst wet
Its op­en­ing leaves with heav’n­ly dew.

Since Thy young ser­vant now hath given
Himself, his pow­ers, his hopes, his youth,
To the great cause of truth and Heav’n,
Be Thou his guide, O God of truth!

Here may his doc­trine drop like rain,
His speech like Her­mon’s dews dis­till,
Till green fields smile, and gold­en grain,
Ripe for the har­vest, waits Thy will.

And when he sinks in death—by care,
Or pain, or toil, or years op­pressed—
O God! re­mem­ber then our pray­er,
And take his spir­it to Thy rest.