1 Shine on our souls, eternal God!
With rays of mercy shine:
O let thy favour crown our days,
And their whole course be thine.

2 Did we not raise our hands to thee,
Our hands might toil in vain:
Small joy success itself could give,
If thou thy love restrain.

3 'Tis ours' the furrows to prepare,
And sow the precious grain;
'Tis thine, to give the sun and air,
And to command the rain

4 With Thee let ev'ry week begin,
With Thee each day be spent,
For Thee each fleeting hour improv'd,
Since each by thee is lent.

5 Thus cheer us thro' this toilsome road,
Till all our labours cease;
And thus prepare our weary souls
For everlasting peace.