We almost sang this hymn at church yesterday (the number was listed in the bulletin, but sadly turned out to be a typo), but it’s a good one for a Monday morning. Words by one of my favourite modern hymn writers, Fred Pratt Green; tune, Repton (as in Dear Lord and Father of Mankind):
How clear is our vocation, Lord,
when once we heed your call:
to live according to your word,
and daily learn, refreshed, restored,
that you are Lord of all,
and will not let us fall.
But if, forgetful, we should find
your yoke is hard to bear;
if worldly pressures fray the mind
and love itself cannot unwind
its tangled skein of care:
our inward life repair.
We mark your saints, how they became
in hindrances more sure,
whose joyful virtues put to shame
the casual way we wear your name,
and by our faults obscure
your power to cleanse and cure.
In what you give us, Lord, to do,
together or alone,
in old routines or ventures new,
may we not cease to look for you,
the cross you hung upon,
all you endeavoured done.