The earth and heavens shaped,
And having rested, still
Would see it richly draped,
Let now Your gracious eye
On our endeavors rest;
As we frail powers try,
Let what we make be blest.
Our humble makings trace
The beauty You have wrought,
An impulse that our race
Has from Your image caught.
What model we may choose,
What medium or form,
O Word, therein infuse
Yourself as source and norm.
In music's liquid strain,
In fiber's warp and weft,
In panel's polished grain,
In brushstroke bold and deft,
As master Maker, show
Yourself in all our skill.
Our tribute feel and know;
Our lives with wonder fill.
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