O Lord and Master of us all, Whate'er our name or sign, We own Thy sway, we hear Thy call, We test our lives by Thine. Thou judgest us; Thy purity Doth all our lusts condemn; The love that draws us nearer Thee Is hot with wrath to them. Our thoughts lie open to Thy sight And naked to Thy glance Our secret sins are in the light Of Thy pure countenance. Yet weak and blinded though we be, Thou dost our service own; We bring our varying gifts to Thee, And Thou rejectest none. To Thee our full humanity, Its joys and pains belong; The wrong of man to man on Thee Inflicts a deeper wrong. Who hates, hates Thee; who loves, becomes Therein to Thee allied: All sweet accords of hearts and homes In Thee are multiplied. Apart from Thee all gain is loss, All labor vainly done; The solemn shadow of the cross Is better than the sun. Our Friend, our Brother, and our Lord, What may Thy service be? Nor name, nor form, nor ritual word, But simply following Thee. We faintly hear, we dimly see, In differing phrase we pray; But dim or clear, we own in Thee The Light, the Truth, the Way.
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