O Word of God above,
Who fill­est all in all,
Hallow this house with Thy sure love,
And bless our fes­tiv­al.

Here from the font is poured
Grace on each sin­ful child;
The blest anoint­ing of the Lord
Brightens the once de­filed.

Here Christ to faith­ful hearts
His body gives for food;
The Lamb of God Him­self im­parts
The cha­lice of His blood.

Here guil­ty souls that pine
May health and par­don win;
The Judge ac­quits, and grace di­vine
Restores the dead in sin.

Yea, God en­throned on high
Here al­so dwells to bless;
Here trains ador­ing souls that sigh
His man­sions to pos­sess.

Against this ho­ly home
Rude tem­pests harm­less beat,
And Sa­tan’s an­gels fierce­ly come
But to en­dure defeat.

All might, all praise be Thine,
Father, co-equal Son,
And Spir­it, bond of love di­vine,
Where end­less ages run.