Gentiles brought into the Temple.

1 GREAT Father of mankind,
We bless that wondrous grace

Which could for Gentiles find
Within thy courts a place.
How kind the care

Our God displays, for us to raise
A house of prayer!

2 Though once estrangéd far,
We now approach the throne;
For Jesus brings us near,
And makes our cause his own.
Strangers no more,

To thee we come, and find our home,
And rest secure.

3 To thee ourselves we join,
And love thy sacred name;
No more our own, but thine,

We triumph in thy claim.
Our Father-King,

Thy covenant-grace our souls embrace,
Thy titles sing.

4 May all the nations throng,
To worship in thy house,

And thou attend the song,
And smile upon their vows!
Indulgent still,

Till earth conspire to join the choir
On Zion's hill.

Nor blush to bear his name;

Still may our hearts hold fast his faith Our lips his praise proclaim.

1 Ix thy courts let peace be found,
Be thy temple full of love;
There we tread on holy ground,
All serene, around, above.

2 While the knee in prayer is bent, While with praise the heart o'erflows, Tranquilize the turbulent!

Give the weary one repose!

3 Be the place for worship meet,
Meet the worship for the place;
Contemplation's best retreat,
Shrine of guilelessness and grace!
4 As an infant knows its home,
Lord, may we thy temples know;
Thither for instruction come
Thence by thee instructed

go.

Eternal Light.

1 O GOD, whose presence glows in all, Within, around us, and above! Thy word we bless, thy name we call, Whose word is Truth, whose name is Love. 2 That truth be with the heart believed Of all who seek this sacred place; With power proclaimed, in peace received,

Our spirits' light, thy Spirit's grace. 3 That love its holy influence pour,

To keep us meek, and make us free, And throw its binding blessing more Round each with all, and all with thee. 4 Send down its angel to our side

Send in its calm upon the breast; For we would know no other guide, And we can need no other rest.

Universal Worship.

PIERPONT.

Its praises and its prayers to thee. 50 Thou, to whom, in ancient time, The lyre of prophet-bards was strung, To thee, at last, in every clime Shall temples rise, and praise be sung,

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DODDRIDGE

Subjection to our Father. 1 ETERNAL Source of life and thought, Be all beneath thyself forgot:

Whilst thee, great Parent-mind, we own, In prostrate homage round thy throne. Whilst in themselves our souls survey Of thee some faint reflected ray, They, wondering, to their Father rise: His power how vast! his tho'ts how wise!