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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