Still more and more conformed to thee!
Would lose the pride, the taint of sin,
That burns these fevered veins within?
And learn of thee, the lowly One,
And, like thee, all our journey run,
Above the world, and all its mirth,
Yet weeping still with weeping earth.
Be with us as we onward go;
Illumine all our way of woe;
And grant us ever on the road