Church of the living God,
Pillar and ground of truth,
Keep the old paths the fathers trod
In thy illumined youth.

Lo, in thy bosom lies
The touchstone for the age;
Seducing error shrinks and dies
At light from yonder page.

Woe to the hands that dare,
By lust of power enticed
To mingle with the doctrine there
The frauds of Antichrist.

Once to the saints was giv’n
All blessèd Gospel lore;
There, written down in words from Heav’n,
Thou hast it evermore.

Fear not, though doubts abound,
And scoffing tongues deride;
Love of God’s Word finds surer ground
When to the utmost tried.

Toil at thy sacred text;
More fruitful grows the field;
Each generation to the next
Prepares a richer yield.

God’s Spirit in the Church,
Still lives unspent, untired,
Inspiring hearts that fain would search
The truths Himself inspired.

Move, Holy Ghost, with might
Amongst us as of old;
Dispel the falsehood, and unite
In true faith and true fold.

One holy Church of God appears
Through every age and race,
Unwasted by the lapse of years,
Unchanged by changing place.

From oldest time, on farthest shores,
Beneath the pine or palm,
One unseen Presence she adores,
With silence, or with psalm.

The truth is her prophetic gift,
The soul her sacred page;
And feet on mercy’s errands swift
Do make her pilgrimage.

O living Church, thine errand speed,
Fulfill thy task sublime;
With Bread of life earth’s hungers feed;
Redeem the evil time!

Beyond the glittering starry skies,
Far as th’eternal hills,
There, in those boundless worlds of light,
Our great Redeemer dwells.

Legions of angels strong and fair,
In countless armies shine,
At His right hand with golden harps,
To offer songs divine.

“Hail, Prince!” they cry, “for ever hail!
Whose unexampled love
Moved Thee to quit those glorious realms,
And royalties above.”

While He did condescend on earth
To suffer rude disdain,
They cast their honors at His feet,
And waited in His train.

Through all His travels here below
They did His steps attend!
Oft gazed and wondered where at last
This scene of love would end.

They saw His heart transfixed with wounds,
His crimson sweat and gore,
They saw Him break the bars of death,
Which none e’er brake before.

They brought His chariot from above,
To bear Him to His throne,
Clapped their triumphant wings and cried,
“The glorious work is done!”