My God, my Father, while I stray
Far from my home, in life's rough way,
Oh, teach me from my heart to say,
"Thy will be done!"

2 If thou should'st call me to resign
What most I prize -- it ne'er was mine --
I only yield thee what was thine --
"Thy will be done!"

3 If but my fainting heart be blest
With thy sweet Spirit for its guest,
My God! to thee I leave the rest --
"Thy will be done!"

4 Renew my will from day to day;
Blend it with thine, and take away
All that now makes it hard to say,
"Thy will be done!"

5 Then, when on earth I breathe no more
The pray'r, oft mixed with tears before,
I'll sing upon a happier shore,
"Thy will be done!"

Charlotte Elliott, 1834.