We are God’s husbandry, and he will take care that the fair fruit of righteousness and peace shall be produced in us. So let it be, good Lord.
Where’er the sun begins its race,
Or ends its swift career,
Both east and west shall own his grace
And Christ be honoured there.
Ten thousand crowns upon his brow,
Declare his victories won:
O may his conquests ever grow,
While time its course shall run.