Jehovah, God, Who Dwelt of Old
VERSE 1
Jehovah, God, who dwelt of old
In temples made with hands,
Thy power display, Thy truth unfold,
Where this new temple stands.
VERSE 2
Vouchsafe to meet Thy children here,
Nor ever hence depart;
From sorrow’s eye wipe every tear,
And bless each longing heart.
VERSE 3
The rich man’s gift, the widow’s mite,
Are blended in these walls;
These altars welcome all alike
Who heed God’s gracious calls.
VERSE 4
From things unholy and unclean
We separate this place;
May naught here ever come between
This people and Thy face!
VERSE 5
Now with this house we give to Thee
Ourselves, our hearts, our all,
The pledge of faith and loyalty,
Held subject to Thy call.
VERSE 6
And when at last the blood washed throng
Is gathered from all lands,
We’ll enter with triumphant songs
The house not made with hands.
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