Lo, they come from east and west;
Come to en­joy the heav­en­ly rest:
North and south—in bliss com­plete—
Round th’eter­nal al­tar meet.

Distant times and ag­es come;
Find in Heav’n one com­mon home:
Patriarchs—pro­phets—Chris­tians—all—
Prompt to ob­ey the gen­er­al call.

Countless host! how great! how blest!
Wondrous joy, and peace, and rest!
What shall fit us, Lord, for this?
Fit our souls for heav’n­ly bliss?

Peace on earth and peace alone;
Peace, which makes all church­es one:
Peace—the fruit of Christ­ian love,
Fits the soul for peace ab­ove.

Grant Thy gra­cious in­flu­ence, Lord;
Silence ev­ery cla­mor­ous word:
Let the Church no more be rent;
Every im­pi­ous wound pre­vent.

O may Christ­ians learn to love;
Love like all the saints ab­ove;
Thus on earth may Heav’n be­gin,
Free from dis­cord, wrath and sin.