W

We are waiting, Master, waiting,Wayworn, pressed with toils and strife;Waiting, hoping, watching, praying,Till we reach the gates of life.

Only waiting till the shadowsAre a little longer grown,Only waiting till the glimmerOf the day's last beam is flown.Then from out the gathered darkness,Holy, deathless stars shall rise,By whose light my soul shall gladlyTread its pathway to the skies.

Jesus, give the wearyCalm and sweet repose.With Thy tend'rest blessingMay our eyelids close.

So tired! Lord, Thou wilt comeTo take me to my home,So long desired:

Only Thy grace and mercy send,That I may serve Thee to the end,Though I am tired.

Renew my will from day to day,Blend it with Thine, and take awayAll that now makes it hard to say,"Thy will be done."

What is it to be wise?'Tis but to know how little can be known,To see all other's faults, and feel our own.

Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much;Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

What in me is dark,Illumine, what is low, raise and support.