O God of Bethel! by whose hand
thy people still are fed;
Who through this weary pilgrimage
hast all our fathers led:

Our vows, our prayers, we now present
before thy throne of grace:
God of our fathers! be the God
of their succeeding race.

Through each perplexing path of life
our wand’ring footsteps guide;
Give us each day our daily bread,
and raiment fit provide.

O spread thy cov’ring wings around,
till all our wand’rings cease,
And at our Father’s loved abode
our souls arrive in peace.

Such blessings from thy gracious hand
our humble pray’rs implore;
And thou shalt be our chosen God,
and portion evermore.

Scottish Psalter and Paraphrases