Converting barren earth to fruitful soil.
I long to be an instrument of thine
For gathering worshipers into thy shrine:
To be the means one human soul to save
From the dark terrors of a hopeless grave.
Yet most I want a spirit of content
To work where'er thou'lt wish my labor spent,
Whether at home or in a stranger's clime,
In days of joy or sorrow's sterner time;
I want a spirit passive to be still,