O God, though count­less worlds of light,
Thy pow­er and glo­ry show,
Though round Thy throne, above all height,
Immortal se­raphs glow—

Yet, Lord, where’er Thy saints apart
Are met for praise and pray­er,
Wherever sighs a con­trite heart,
Thou, gra­cious God, art there.

With grate­ful joy, Thy child­ren rear
This tem­ple, Lord, to Thee;
Long may they sing Thy prais­es here,
And here Thy beau­ty see.

Here, Sav­ior, deign Thy saints to meet;
With peace their hearts to fill;
And here, like Sha­ron’s od­ors sweet,
May grace di­vine dis­till.

Here may Thy truth fresh tri­umphs win;
Eternal Spi­rit, here.
In ma­ny a heart now dead in sin,
A liv­ing tem­ple rear.