In this sweet vale where peace has found
An undisturbed abode,
The everlasting hills surround
A temple reared to God;
Where one pure stream, the Gospel's sound,
Flows as it ever flow'd.
Here never reach the angry jars
Which break the Church's rest.
The unity that strife debars
Is on this Branch imprest;
Her truths of old no discord mars;
Here peace is in her breast.
One Book reveals the living lore
Of prophets, saints, and kings.
One mild apostle here its store
To every household brings;
And on this temple's sacred floor
The pure glad tidings sings.
Race follows race from field and home,
And all in earth are laid:
But steadfast as the starry dome
Above, the truth is spread
Around their feet, howe'er they roam,
Unquestioned, ungainsaid.
How blest, to live and hope in peace
Like these! nor hear the knell
Of some sure promise, made to cease
Beneath the mystic's spell,
Or subtle casuist's caprice--
And know that all is well.
In vainest strifes we cast away
Too much from life's fair page.
The flock becomes the spoiler's prey,
Because the shepherds rage.
And while the life is but a day,
The warfare lasts an age.
But here may piety rejoice
To tread the ancient ways:
Still make the one true part the choice
Of even the darkest days;
And lift an undivided voice
Of thankful prayer and praise.
Guard, Sovereign of the heights and rills!
These precincts of Thy fold;
This little Church, which thus fulfils
Thy purpose framed of old.
And this Thy flock amidst these hills
Still in Thy bosom hold.