Father of all, we fain would say, as did Thy only Son,
In every hour of every day, Oh let Thy Will be done.
In thought, in word, in deed, in death, things finished or begun,
Let every transitory breath whisper: Thy Will be done.
In daily cares to thousands known, or known perchance to none,
Let this request be heard above: Oh! Lord, Thy Will be done.
In sickness though some stroke unseen may oft the senses stun,
Let grace suggestive intervene to feel Thy Will be done.
In health, when in its full career the race of man is run,
Let joy be taught by holy fear to pray: Thy Will be done.
Amid the rocks and shoals of life which few can ever shun,
Let peace compose each spark of strife and cry: Thy Will be done.
And when the bow of hope shall blend all colours into one,
Time with eternity shall end with: LORD, THY WILL BE DONE.
This prayer was found among Teresa's papers after her death at Chudleigh, Devon in 1905. It can be sung as a hymn to the tune St. Anne (O God our help in ages past).
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