Thy peo­ple, Lord, of many lands and na­tions,
In ev­en­ing praise are met to wait Thy will;
Weak men and wo­men, liv­ing by Thy pa­tience—
Be ve­ry pa­tient still.

Suffer us, yet, O Lord, a lit­tle long­er;
With all our brok­en pur­pos­es of good—
Suffer us yet, and make our spi­rits strong­er
To serve Thee as we should.

Be with us all, dear Lord, guard Thou our sleep­ing;
If any wak­en, tem­per Thou the gloom
Of night’s dark watch­es qui­et in Thy keep­ing
Until the day shall come.

Call us to la­bor blithe­ly on the mor­row,
With morn­ing fac­es and with morn­ing hearts;
Or if the day that dawns be marked for sor­row,
Nerve us to bear our parts.