Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing;
Thanks for mercies past receive;
Pardon all, their 'r faults confessing;
Time that's lost may all retrieve:
May thy children,
May thy children
Ne'er again thy Spirit grieve.

Bless thou all our days of leisure,
Help us selfish lures to flee;
Sanctify out every pleasure;
Pure and blameless may it be;
May our gladness,
May our gladness
Draw us evermore to thee.

Let thy father-hand be shielding
All who here shall meet no more;
May their seed-time past be yielding
Year by year a richer store;
Those returning,
Those returning
Make more faithful than before.

Anonym

H. J. Buckoll, 1803-1871