Father of men, in Whom are one All humankind beneath Thy sun, Stablish our work in Thee begun. Except the house be built of Thee, In vain the builder’s toil must be: O strengthen our infirmity.
Man lives not for himself alone, In others’ good he finds his own; Life’s worth in fellowship is known. We, friends and comrades on life’s way, Gather within these walls to pray: Bless Thou our fellowship today.
O Christ, our Elder Brother, who By serving man God’s will didst do, Help us to serve our brethren, too. Guide us to seek the things above, The base to shun, the pure approve, To live by Thy free law of love.
In all our work, in all our play, Be with us, Lord, our Friend, our Stay; Lead onward to the perfect day: Then may we know, earth’s lesson o’er, With comrades missed or gone before, Heav’n’s fellowship for evermore.
O Father, all creating, Whose wisdom, love, and power First bound two lives together In Eden’s primal hour, Today to these Thy children Thine earliest gifts renew, A home by Thee made happy, A love by Thee kept true.
O Savior, Guest most bounteous Of old in Galilee, Vouchsafe today Thy presence With these who call on Thee; Their store of earthly gladness Transform to heavenly wine, And teach them, in the tasting, To know the gift is Thine.
O Spirit of the Father, Breathe on them from above, So mighty in Thy pureness, So tender in Thy love; That, guarded by Thy presence, From sin and strife kept free, Their lives may own Thy guidance, Their hearts be ruled by Thee.
Except Thou build it, Father, The house is built in vain; Except Thou, Savior, bless it, The joy will turn to pain; But naught can break the union Of hearts in Thee made one; And love Thy Spirit hallows Is endless love begun.
We cannot build alone; to rear, great God, to Thee, A house which Thou wilt own, Thou must the builder be. Not by our might, but Thy power, Must dome and tower take upward flight, Must dome and tower take upward flight.
Were all the stones that lie unquarried ’neath the sod Piled up against the sky, it were not worthy God. To make this dear, Lord, condescend Thy head to bend and enter here, Thy head to bend and enter here.
Let faith here rear to God! Here love erect her thrones! A house for Thine abode be built of lively stones! We do not err, O Holy Ghost! Pure hearts Thou dost to fanes prefer, Pure hearts Thou dost to fanes prefer.
The heavenly only stands: Earth briefly typifies The House not made with hands, eternal in the skies— We see its towers: how sweet to know, When hence we go, that House is ours! When hence we go, that House is ours!
Sorrow and care may meet, The tempest cloud may low’r, The surge of sin may beat Upon earth’s troubled shore; God doth His own in safety keep, He giveth His belovèd sleep, He giveth His belovèd sleep.
The din of war may roll, With all her raging flight, Grief may oppress the soul, Throughout the weary nigh; God doth His own in safety keep, He giveth His belovèd sleep, He giveth His belovèd sleep.
In childhood’s winsome page, In manhood’s joyous bloom, In feebleness and age, In death’s dark gathering gloom, God will His own in safety keep, He giveth His belovèd sleep, He giveth His belovèd sleep.
Joy and light, joy and light, Over the crystal sea; Come, come, soft and bright, Over the crystal sea. Come on your snowy pinions white, Come in the silent calm of night, Watch when the pale stars keep, Bring the troubled one, Bring the weary one sleep.
Love and rest, love and rest, Carol in silver tone; Glad songs, pure and blest, Carol in silver tone. Come from the fadeless flowers that grow, Come from the sparkling streams that flow, Come in the midnight deep, Bring the troubled one, Bring the weary one sleep.
Voice divine, voice divine, Speak, and our souls shall hear; Sweet, sweet words are Thine, Speak, and our souls shall hear. Tell of a cloudless region fair, Tell of the many mansions there, Speak to the hearts that weep, Bring the troubled one, Bring the weary one sleep.
Of all the thoughts of God that are Borne inward into souls afar, Along the psalmist’s music deep, Now tell me if there any is, For gift or grace surpassing this: “He giveth His belovèd sleep”?
What would we give to our beloved? The hero’s heart to be unmoved, The poet’s star tuned harp, to sweep, The patriot’s voice, to teach and rouse, The monarch’s crown, to light the brows? He giveth His belovèd sleep.
“Sleep soft, belovèd!” we sometimes say, Who have no tune to charm away Sad dreams that through the eyelids creep But never doleful dream again Shall break the happy slumber when He giveth His belovèd sleep.
His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap; More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, He giveth His belovèd sleep.