Lie still, and let Him mould thee!

Oh, Lord, I would obey;

Be Thou the skillful, Potter,

And I the yielding clay.

In Thy dear hand I'm resting,

Oh, hold me quiet there;

Then soften me and mould me,

And for Thy will prepare.

I need not fear to trust Thee,

Thy love and skill are such,

New lessons Thou wilt teach me,

While yielding to Thy touch.

Impress Thine image on me,

Fulfill Thy blest design,

Till others see upon me

That beauteous face of Thine.