Come to the house of pray­er,
O thou af­flict­ed, come;
The God of peace shall meet thee there,
He makes that house His home.

Come to the house of praise,
Ye who are hap­py now;
In sweet ac­cord your voic­es raise,
In kin­dred hom­age bow.

Ye ag­èd, hi­ther come,
For ye have felt His love;
Soon shall your trem­bling tongues be dumb,
Your lips for­get to move.

Ye young, be­fore His throne
Come, bow; your voic­es raise;
What! shall your hearts His praise dis­own
Who gives the pow­er to praise?

Thou, whose be­nig­nant eye
In mer­cy looks on all,
And sees the tear of mi­se­ry,
And hears the mourn­er’s call,

Up to Thy dwell­ing place
Bear our frail spir­its on,
Till they out­strip time’s tar­dy pace,
And Hea­ven on earth be won.