Our parents, brothers, sisters, friends,
We love and hold most dear;
For these our Heavenly Father sends
To make us happy here.

They feed, they clothe, supply our wants,
And bless us while they live;
But God, our Heavenly Father, grants
Blessings they cannot give.

We call them ours a little while--
Then one by one departs,
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And we no longer see their smile
That won our youthful hearts.

Our Heavenly Father cannot die;
On Him our souls depend;
We sleep and wake beneath His eye--
He loves us to the end.

He gave us being, gave us breath;
We feel His constant care;
We're His through life, we're His in death,
His we for ever are.

He to His house, not made with hands,
Invites us while we roam,
And at the door our Saviour stands
To bid its welcome home.

What doth the Lord, on our poor part,
Require us to resign?
"My son," saith He, "give Me thy heart"
"My daughter! give Me thine."

Let us on this great jubilee,
Answer, "Thy will be done;
We give up all our hearts to Thee:
Each child now brings Thee one.

"Take them, and fill them with Thy love--
Fill till they overflow
With praise to Thee in heaven above,
And prayer for all below.

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"May every heart on earth's wide face,
Of child or man, be given
To Christ, where'er His Word of Grace
Is sounded under heaven!"