O Thou within whose sure control The surging Planets onward roll, Whose everlasting arms embrace The sons o£ every clime and race; Hear Thou, O Lord, a nation's prayer For these Thy children of the air!

Thou at the impulse of whose will A troubled Galilee grew still, Thy chart and compass shall provide Deliverance from storm and tide: Hear Thou, O Lord, a nation's prayer For these Thy rangers of the Air!

Across the ocean, dread and deep, Above the forest's lonely sweep, Or when through serried clouds they rise And hidden are from mortal eyes; Hear Thou, O Lord, a nation's prayer For Thy crusaders of the Air!

Uphold their shining argosies Upon the vast ethereal seas; Encompass Thou their valiant wings In all their brave adventurings: Hear Thou, O Lord, a nation's prayer For these Thy children of the air!