As does the sparrow his house choose
And her small nest the swallow views,
So I your Altar, Lord, now seek,
In all I think and do and speak.
Lord, help me through the vale of woe.
Your servants grant where’er they go,
That they your living spring may tend
And from the pure faith never bend.
Far better, Lord, it is to be
The least in Your community
Than all earth’s majesty to claim:
Its fleeting pow’r, fortune, and fame.
You are our shield, our sun ablaze,
Our Lord who gives honor and grace.
Each day, O Lord, our faith renew
And turn our wand’ring hearts to you.