1 Built on a 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,
Calling the souls of men distressed,
Longing for life everlasting.

2 Not in our temples made with hands
God, the Almighty, is dwelling;
High in the heavens His temple stands,
All earthly temples excelling;
Yet He who dwells in heaven above
Deigns to abide with us in love,
Making our bodies His temple.

3 We are God's house of living stones,
Built for His own habitation;
He fills our hearts, His humble thrones,
Granting us life and salvation;
Were two or three to seek His face,
He in their midst would show His grace,
Blessings upon them bestowing.

4 Yet in this house, an earthly frame,
Jesus the children is blessing;
Hither we come to praise His Name,
Faith in our Savior confessing;
Jesus to us His Spirit sent,
Making with us His covenant,
Granting His children the kingdom.