We Are the Children of the Church

We are the child­ren of the church

Our mo­thers reared by pray­er;

The church our fa­thers for­ti­fied

By faith and man­ly care.

Our fa­thers’ church—our mo­thers’ church—

Is just the church for me;

Our fa­thers’ church—our mo­thers’ church—

Mine ev­er­more shall be.

Strong are its mass­ive gates and wide

Its walls a tow­er­ing pile;

Alike im­preg­na­ble to all

Who would its courts de­file.

Numerous its peo­ple as the stars

As pledged in days of old;

And will be as the count­less sand

A num­ber yet un­told.

And stirred it is by lof­ty aims

Of love to­ward man and God

And will be till the world ac­cepts

Messiah’s staff and rod.

How glo­ri­ous then

this her­it­age

Burdened with sto­ried wealth

Enriching us and all man­kind

With life

and peace

and health.

As ga­thered on the Child­ren’s Day

We at its al­tars vow

To mark its bul­warks

tell its tow­ers

And hold our place as now.