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"Angulare Fundamentum."

2 All that dedicated city,

Dearly loved of God on high,

In exultant jubilation

Pours perpetual melody;
God the One in Three adoring
In glad hymns eternally.

3 To this temple, where we call Thee,
Come, O Lord of hosts, to-day:
With Thy wonted loving-kindness,
Hear Thy servants as they pray;
And Thy fullest benediction

Shed within its walls alway.

4 Here vouchsafe to all Thy servants
What they ask of Thee to gain,
What they gain from Thee for ever
With the blessed to retain,
And hereafter in Thy glory
Evermore with Thee to reign.

Unknown Author of the 8th century,

Tr. by Rev. John Mason Neale. (1818--1866.) 1851. ab. and alt.

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835

Love to the Church.
Ps. cxxxvii.

2 I love Thy church, O God:

Her walls before Thee stand,
Dear as the apple of Thine eye,
And graven on Thy hand.

3 For her my tears shall fall,

For her my prayers ascend;

To her my cares and toils be given,
Till toils and cares shall end.

4 Beyond my highest joy

I prize her heavenly ways,

Her sweet communion, solemn vows,
Her hymns of love and praise.

5 Jesus, Thou Friend divine,

Our Saviour and our King, Thy hand from every snare and foe Shall great deliverance bring.

6 Sure as Thy truth shall last,

To Zion shall be given
The brightest glories earth can yield,
And brighter bliss of heaven.

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3 Let strangers walk around
The city where we dwell,
Compass and view Thy holy ground,
And mark the building well;

4 The orders of Thy house,

The worship of Thy court,

The cheerful songs, the solemn vows;
And make a fair report.

5 How decent, and how wise!

How glorious to behold!

Beyond the pomp that charms the eyes, And rites adorned with gold.

6 The God we worship now

Will guide us, till we die;
Will be our God, while here below,
And ours above the sky.

837

Rev. Isaac Watts. (1674-1748.) 1719.

The Church the Safety of the Nation.
Ps. xlviii.

I GREAT is the Lord our God,
And let His praise be great;
He makes His churches His abode,
His most delightful seat.

2 These temples of His grace,
How beautiful they stand,
The honors of our native place,
And bulwarks of our land.

3 In Zion God is known,

A Refuge in distress;

How bright has His salvation shone
Through all her palaces!

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'Twas tribulation ages since,
'Tis tribulation still.

6 No slacker grows the fight,
No feebler is the foe,

Nor less the need of armor tried,
Of shield and spear and bow.

7 Thus onward still we press

Through evil and through good, Through pain and poverty and want, Through peril and through blood.

8 Still faithful to our God,

And to our Captain true,

We follow where He leads the way,
The kingdom in our view.

Rev. Horatius Bonar. (1808-) 1857. ab.

WAREHAM. 11, 8.

Samuel Arnold. (1740-1802 c. 1780.

1. O GREAT is Jehovah, and great be His praise; In the city of God He is King:

Proclaim ye His triumphs in ju - bi- lant lays; On the mount of His ho-li- ness sing,

Proclaim ye His triumphs in ju - bi- lant lays; On the mount of His ho-li- ness sing.

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2 The joy of the earth, from her beautiful I BE joyful in God, all ye lands of the earth;

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The ancient Prince of hell Hath risen with pur-pose fell; Strong mail of craft and

power He wear-eth in this hour, On earth is not his fel low.

842

"Ein' feste Burg ist unser Gott."

2 With force of arms we nothing can,
Full soon were we down-ridden;
But for us fights the proper Man,
Whom God himself hath bidden.
Ask ye, who is this same?
Christ Jesus is His name,
The Lord Sabaoth's Son,
He and no other one
Shall conquer in the battle.

3 And were this world all devils o'er,

And watching to devour us,
We lay it not to heart so sore,
Not they can overpower us.
And let the Prince of ill

P. M.

Look grim as e'er he will,
He harms us not a whit:
For why? His doom is writ,
One little word shall slay him.

4 That word, for all their craft and force, One moment will not linger,

But, spite of hell, shall have its course, 'Tis written by His finger.

And though they take our life,
Goods, honor, children, wife,
Yet is their profit small;
These things shall vanish all,
The Kingdom ours remaineth.

Martin Luther. 1529.
Tr. by Thomas Carlyle. (1795—) 1831. sl. alt.

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