We give thee but thine own,
Whate'er the gift may be;
All that we have is thine alone,
A trust, O God, from thee.

To comfort and to bless,
To find a balm for woe,
To tend the lone and fatherless,
Is angels' work below.

The captive to release,
To God the lost to bring,
To teach the way of life and peace,
It is a Christ-like thing.

And we believe the word,
Though dim our faith may be,—
Whate'er for thine we do, O Lord,
We do it unto thee.