We give thee but thine own,
Whate'er the gift may be,
All that we have is thine alone,
A trust, O Lord, from thee.

May we Thy bounties thus
As stewards true receive
And gladly, as Thou blessest us,
To Thee our first-fruits give!

Oh, hearts are bruised and dead,
And homes are bare and cold,
And lambs for whom the Shepherd bled
Are straying from the fold.

To comfort and to bless,
To find a balm for woe,
To tend the lone and fatherless,
Is angels' work below.

The captive to release,
To God the lost to bring,
To teach the way of life and peace,
It is a Christlike thing.

And we believe Thy Word,
Though dim our faith may be:
Whate’er for Thine we do, O Lord,
We do it unto Thee.