O God, above the drift­ing years,
The shrines our fa­thers found­ed stand,
And where the high­er gain ap­pears,
We trace the work­ing of Thy hand.

From out their tire­less pray­er and toil
Emerge the gifts that time has proved,
And seed laid deep in sac­red soil,
Yields har­vests rich in last­ing good.

The torch of their de­vo­tion lent,
Lightens the dark that round us lies;
Help us to pass it on un­spent,
Until the dawn lights up the skies.

Form Thou our hearts with faith like theirs,
Who served the days they could not see,
And give us grace, through amp­ler years,
To build the king­dom yet to be.