Lift the strain of high thanks­giv­ing!
Tread with songs the hal­lowed way!
Praise our fa­thers’ God for mer­cies
New to us their sons to­day:
Here they built for Him a dwell­ing,
Served Him here in ag­es past,
Fixed it for His sure pos­se­ssion,
Holy ground, while time shall last.

When the years had wrought their chang­es,
He, our own un­chang­ing God,
Thought on this His ha­bi­ta­tion,
Looked on His de­cayed abode;
Heard our pray­ers, and helped our coun­sels,
Blessed the sil­ver and the gold,
Till once more His house is stand­ing
Firm and state­ly as of old.

Entering then Thy gates with prais­es,
Lord, be ours Thine Is­ra­el’s pray­er:
Rise in­to Thy place of rest­ing,
Show Thy pro­mised pre­sence there!
Let the gra­cious Word be spok­en
Here, as once on Si­on’s height,
This shall be My rest for­ev­er,
This my dwell­ing of de­light.

Fill this lat­ter house with glo­ry
Greater than the for­mer knew;
Clothe with right­eous­ness the priest­hood,
Guide its choir to rev­er­ence true;
Let Thy Ho­ly One’s anoint­ing
Here its sev­en­fold bless­ings shed;
Spread for us the hea­ven­ly ban­quet,
Satisfy Thy poor with bread.

Praise to Thee, al­migh­ty Fa­ther,
Praise to Thee, eter­nal Son,
Praise to Thee, all quick­en­ing Spir­it,
Ever bless­èd Three in One;
Threefold pow­er and grace and wis­dom,
Molding out of sin­ful clay
Living stones for that true tem­ple
Which shall ne­ver know de­cay.