1 Maker of earth, to thee alone
Perpetual rest belongs;
And those bright choirs around thy throne
May pour their endless songs.

2 But we--ah, holy now no more!
Are doomed to toil and pain;
Yet exiles on an alien shore
May sing their country’s strain.

3 Father, whose promise binds thee still
To heal the suppliant throng,
Grant us to mourn the deeds of ill
That banish us so long;

4 And, while we mourn, in faith to rest
Upon thy love and care,
Till thou restore us with the blest
The song of heaven to share.

5 O God the Father, God the Son,
And God the Holy Ghost,
To thee be praise, great Three in One,
From thy created host. Amen.