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Thomas Hornblower Gill (1810-1906).

WE come unto our fathers' God;
 Their Rock is our Salvation;
The Eternal Arms, their dear abode,
 We make our habitation:
We bring thee, Lord, the praise they brought;
We seek thee as thy saints have sought
 In every generation.

The Fire Divine, their steps that led,
 Still goeth bright before us;
The Heavenly Shield, around them spread,
 Is still high holden o'er us;
The grace those sinners that subdued,
The strength those weaklings that renewed,
 Doth vanquish, doth restore us.

The cleaving sins that brought them low
 Are still our souls oppressing;
The tears that from their eyes did flow,
Fall fast, our shame confessing;
As with thee, Lord, prevailed their cry,
So our strong prayer ascends on high,
 And bringeth down thy blessing.

Their joy unto their Lord we bring;
 Their song to us descendeth;
The Spirit who in them did sing
 To us his music lendeth.
His song in them, in us, is one;
We raise it high, we send it on—
 The song that never endeth!

Ye saints to come, take up the strain-
 The same sweet theme endeavour!
Unbroken be the Golden Chain!
 Keep on the song for ever!
Safe in the same dear dwelling-place.
Rich with the same eternal grace,
 Bless the same boundless Giver!

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