Lord, let us feel toward no man ill,
Prevent us paying wrong with wrong;
Keep words from sounding harsh or shrill,
Toward evildoers let love be long.
Our joy in Christ each day renewed,
Our prayers in sweet accord ascend;
Your will, our pleasure, quick pursued,
Before your throne let passions bend.
Lord, let us find in every hour,
A thousand motives to give you thanks,
With nary a grain of grumbling dour,
To exclude us from the praising ranks.
Alight in us the Spirit’s fire,
Not treating truth with low disdain;
But holding all that’s good the higher,
And finding Jesus in our pain.