The Holy Song Hath Died Away

The ho­ly song hath died away

But still it vi­brates through our hearts:

And we re­turn

though fain to stay;

Each to his fa­mi­ly departs.

The morn­ing bade the tem­ple gate

Lift it­self high; we en­tered in

And on Thee

Lord

pre­sumed to wait

Thy grace to seek

Thy smile to win.

Now for the house­hold sac­ri­fice;

The ev­en­ing rite as in­cense spread;

And let our blame­less hands arise

Doubting and wrath for ev­er fled.

Can doubt have place? Thy mer­cies new

Assure and lift our souls ab­ove.

Nor on its al­tar would we strew

A liv­ing coal but that of love.

Oh ’tis an hour of ho­ly calm;

Our ta­ber­na­cle is in peace;

To Thee shall swell the cheer­ful psalm

Teach us Thy Word

our faith in­crease.

Zion and Ja­cob share our vows

Peace be to both: and grace dis­till

On God’s

and on His child­ren’s house

The hap­py tent

the ho­ly hill.

Good

though not best

’tis to be here

Soon no such dif­fer­ence shall there be;

True sanc­tu­ary

with­in Thy sphere

Shall wor­ship the whole fa­mi­ly.