Life and motion, breath, and being,
All by God are given;
He, all-guiding and all-seeing,
He, the Lord of Heaven,
Fashions at His will our lot,
Changing not and erring not.
Sometimes through a vale of sadness,
Dim and dark and fearful;
Sometimes o'er the plains of gladness,
Flowery, fresh, and cheerful;
Yet He ever is the same,
Love His attribute, His name.
All our various paths are tending
To one dormitory;
Death in common ruins blending
Poverty and glory:
O'er the grave the hills arise
Of the eternal paradise.