Coming, com­ing, we are com­ing
To Thy tem­ple, gra­cious Lord,
To re­ceive the bless­èd teach­ing
Of Thy pure and per­fect Word;
Meekly would we learn our du­ty,
Learn it kneel­ing at Thy feet,
While a ra­di­ance from Thy glo­ry
Covers all the mer­cy-seat.

Singing, sing­ing, we are sing­ing
How Thy won­drous love, so free,
Floweth on­ward, ev­er on­ward,
Like a vast and migh­ty sea;
And our souls mount up with glad­ness
While we swell the lof­ty strain,
Glory, glo­ry, hal­le­lu­jah,
To the Lamb for sin­ners slain!

Praying, pray­ing, we are pray­ing
That Thy Spir­it, like a dove,
May des­cend with gifts of mer­cy
From Thy gra­cious hand above;
Lord, we ask, that in Thy watch-care,
We may all pro­tect­ed be,
Every hand be quick to la­bor,
And our hearts be stayed on Thee.