The Men Who Slight Thy Faithful Word

The men who slight Thy faith­ful word

In their own lies con­fide

These are the tem­ple of the Lord

And hea­thens all be­side!

The tem­ple of the Lord are these

The on­ly church and true

Who live in pomp

and wealth

and ease

And Je­sus nev­er knew.

The tem­ple of the Lord—they pull

Thy liv­ing tem­ples down

And cast out ev­ery gra­cious soul

That trem­bles at Thy frown:

The church—they from their pale ex­pel

Whom Thou hast here for­giv­en:

And all the sy­na­gogue of hell

Are the sole heirs of Heav­en!

O would’st Thou

Lord

re­veal their sins

And turn their joy to grief

The world

the Christ­ian world con­vince

Of damn­ing un­be­lief;

The for­mal­ists con­found

con­vert

And to Thy peo­ple join

And break

and fill the brok­en heart

With con­fi­dence di­vine!