Lift the Strain of High Thanksgiving

Lift the strain of high thanks­giv­ing!

Tread with songs the hal­lowed way!

Praise our fa­thers’ God for mer­cies

New to us their sons to­day:

Here they built for Him a dwell­ing

Served Him here in ag­es past

Fixed it for His sure pos­se­ssion

Holy ground

while time shall last.

When the years had wrought their chang­es

He

our own un­chang­ing God

Thought on this His ha­bi­ta­tion

Looked on His de­cayed ab­ode;

Heard our pray­ers

and helped our coun­sels

Blessed the sil­ver and the gold

Till once more His house is stand­ing

Firm and state­ly as of old.

Entering then Thy gates with prais­es

Lord

be ours Thine Is­ra­el’s pray­er:

Rise in­to Thy place of rest­ing

Show Thy pro­mised pre­sence there!

Let the gra­cious Word be spok­en

Here

as once on Si­on’s height

This shall be My rest for­ev­er

This my dwell­ing of de­light.

Fill this lat­ter house with glo­ry

Greater than the for­mer knew;

Clothe with right­eous­ness the priest­hood

Guide its choir to rev­er­ence true;

Let Thy Ho­ly One’s anoint­ing

Here its sev­en­fold bless­ings shed;

Spread for us the heav­en­ly ban­quet

Satisfy Thy poor with bread.

Praise to Thee

al­migh­ty Fa­ther

Praise to Thee

eter­nal Son

Praise to Thee

all quick­en­ing Spir­it

Ever bless­èd Three in One;

Threefold pow­er and grace and wis­dom

Molding out of sin­ful clay

Living stones for that true tem­ple

Which shall nev­er know de­cay.