Jehovah
God
who dwelt of old
In temples made with hands
Thy power display
Thy truth unfold
Where this new temple stands.
Vouchsafe to meet Thy children here
Nor ever hence depart;
From sorrow’s eye wipe every tear
And bless each longing heart.
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.
From things unholy and unclean
We separate this place;
May naught here ever come between
This people and Thy face!
Now with this house we give to Thee
Ourselves
our hearts
our all
The pledge of faith and loyalty
Held subject to Thy call.
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.