1 Built on the Rock the Church doth stand,
Even when steeples are falling;
Crumbled have spires in ev'ry land,
Bells still are chiming and calling;
Calling the young and old to rest,
But above all the soul distrest,
Longing for rest everlasting.

2 Surely in temples made with hands,
God, the Most High, is not dwelling,
High above earth His temple stands,
All earthly temples excelling:
Yet He whom heav'ns cannot contain
Chose to abide on earth with men--
Built in our bodies His temple.

3 We are God's house of living stones,
Builded for His habitation;
He thro' baptismal grace us owns,
Heirs of His wondrous salvation;
Were we but two His name to tell,
Yet He would deign with us to dwell,
With all His grace and His favor.

4 Still we our earthly temples rear,
That we may herald His praises;
They are the homes where He draws near
And little children embraces;
Beautiful things in them are said,
God there with us His cov'nant made,
Making us heirs of His kingdom.

5 Here stands the font before our eyes
Telling how God did receive us;
Th'altar recalls Christ's sacrifice
And what His table doth give us;
Here sounds the word that doth proclaim
Christ yesterday, to-day the same,
Yea, and for aye our Redeemer.

6 Grant then, O God, where'er men roam,
That when the church bells are ringing,
Many in Jesus' faith may come
Where He His message is bringing:
I know mine own, mine own know me,
Ye, not the world, my face shall see:
My peace I leave with you, Amen.