O Thou whose hand hath brought us
Unto this joy­ful day,
Accept our glad thanks­giv­ing,
And list­en as we pray;
And may our pre­pa­ra­tion
For this day’s ser­vice be
With one ac­cord to of­fer
Ourselves, O Lord, to Thee.

For this Thy house we praise Thee,
Reared at Thine own com­mand,
For every ge­ne­rous spir­it,
And ev­ery will­ing hand;
And now with­in Thy tem­ple
Thy glo­ry let us see,
For all its strength and beau­ty
Are no­thing with­out Thee.

And oft as here we ga­ther,
And hearts in wor­ship blend,
May truth re­veal its pow­er,
And fer­vent pray­ers as­cend;
Here may the busy toil­er
Rise to the things above;
The young, the old, be strength­ened,
And all men learn Thy love.

And as the years roll on­ward,
And strong af­fect­ions twine,
And ten­der mem’ries ga­ther
About this sac­red shrine,
May this its chief dis­tinct­ion,
Its glo­ry, ev­er be,
That mul­ti­tudes with­in it
Have found their way to Thee.

Lord God, our fa­thers’ help­er,
Our joy, and hope and stay:
Grant now a gra­cious ear­nest
Of ma­ny a com­ing day.
Our yearn­ing hearts Thou know­est;
We wait be­fore Thy throne:
O come, and by Thy pre­sence
Make this new house Thine own.