Words: (1841-1919). The words were writ­ten cir­ca 1865, and ap­peared short­ly there­af­ter in the Sun­day Mag­a­zine.

Music: Gou­da, (1838-1897).

O Lord, with toil our days are filled,
They rarely leave us free;
O give us space to seek for grace
In happy thoughts of Thee.

Yet hear us, little though we ask,
O leave us not alone;
In every thought, and word, and task,
Be near us, though unknown.

Still lead us, wandering in the dark,
Still send us heavenly food,
And mark, as none on earth can mark,
Our struggle to be good.