WE come unto our fathers’ God: Their Rock is our salvation: The eternal arms, their dear abode, We make our habitation: We bring Thee, Lord, the praise they brought; We seek Thee as Thy saints have sought In every generation.
The fire divine, their steps that led, Still brightly shines before us; The heavenly shield, around them spread, Is still held high, above us: The grace those sinners that subdued, The strength those weaklings that renewed, Still humbles and restores us.
The cleaving sins that brought them low Are still our souls oppressing; The tears that from their eyes did flow Fall still, our shame confessing; As with Thee, Lord, prevailed their cry, So our strong prayer ascends on high, And gains for us Thy blessing.
Their joy unto their Lord we bring; Their song to us descendeth: The Spirit Who in them did sing To us His music lendeth. His song in them, in us, is one; We raise it high, we send it on— The song that never endeth!
Ye saints to come, take up the strain, The same sweet theme endeavour! Unbroken be the golden chain! Keep on the song for ever! Safe in the same dear dwelling-place, Rich with the same eternal grace, Bless the same boundless Giver!
Thomas Hornblower Gill, 1819-1906