Our God, to Whom we turn When weary with illusion, Whose stars serenely burn Above this earth’s confusion, Thine is the mighty plan, The steadfast order sure In which the world began, Endures, and will endure.
Thou art Thyself the truth; Though we who fain would find Thee, Have tried, with thoughts uncouth, In feeble words to bind Thee, It is because Thou art We’re driven to the quest; Till truth from falsehood part, Our souls can find no rest.
All beauty speaks of Thee: The mountains and the rivers, The line of lifted sea, Where spreading moonlight quivers, The deep-toned organ blast That rolls through arches dim, Hints of the music vast Of Thine eternal hymn.
Wherever goodness lurks We catch Thy tones appealing; Where man for justice works Thou art Thyself revealing; The blood of man, for man On friendship’s altar spilt, Betrays the mystic plan On which Thy house is built.
Thou hidden fount of love, Of peace, and truth, and beauty, Inspire us from above With joy and strength for duty. May Thy fresh light arise Within each clouded heart, And give us open eyes To see Thou as Thou art.