O God, beneath Thy guiding handOur exiled fathers crossed the sea;And when they trod the wintry strand,With prayer and psalm they worshipped Thee.
Thou heardest, well pleased, the song, the prayer:Thy blessing came; and still its powerShall onward, through all ages, bearThe memory of that holy hour.
Laws, freedom, truth and faith in GodCame with those exiles o’er the waves;And, where their pilgrim feet have trod,The God they trusted guards their graves.
And here Thy Name, O God of love,Their children’s children still adore,Till these eternal hills remove,And spring adorns the earth no more.
To Thee, O God, whose guiding handOur fathers led across the sea,And brought them to this barren shore,Where they might freely worship Thee—
To Thee, O God, whose arm sustainedTheir footsteps in this desert land,Where sickness lurked, and death assailedAnd foes beset on every hand—
To Thee, O God, we lift our eyes,To Thee our grateful voices raise,And, kneeling at Thy gracious throne,Devoutly join in hymns of praise.
Our fathers’ God, incline Thine ear,And listen to our heartfelt prayer;Surround us with Thy heavenly grace,And guard us with Thy constant care.
Our fathers’ God, in Thee we’ll trust,Sheltered by Thee from every harm;We’ll follow where Thy hand shall guide,And lean on Thy sustaining arm.