Hymn For The Opening Of Thomas Starr Kings House Of Worship, 1864

Amidst these glorious works of Thine,     The solemn minarets of the pine,     And awful Shasta's icy shrine,     Where swell Thy hymns from wave and gale,     And organ-thunders never fail,     Behind the cataract's silver veil,     Our puny walls to Thee we raise,     Our poor reed-music sounds Thy praise:     Forgive, O Lord, our childish ways!     For, kneeling on these altar-stairs,     We urge Thee not with selfish prayers,     Nor murmur at our daily cares.     Before Thee, in an evil day,     Our country's bleeding heart we lay,     And dare not ask Thy hand to stay;     But, through the war-cloud, pray to Thee     For union, but a union free,     With peace that comes of purity!     That Thou wilt bare Thy arm to, save     And, smiting through this Red Sea wave,     Make broad a pathway for the slave!     For us, confessing all our need,     We trust nor rite nor word nor deed,     Nor yet the broken staff of creed.     Assured alone that Thou art good     To each, as to the multitude,     Eternal Love and Fatherhood,     Weak, sinful, blind, to Thee we kneel,     Stretch dumbly forth our hands, and feel     Our weakness is our strong appeal.     So, by these Western gates of Even     We wait to see with Thy forgiven     The opening Golden Gate of Heaven!     Suffice it now. In time to be     Shall holier altars rise to Thee,     Thy Church our broad humanity     White flowers of love its walls shall climb,     Soft bells of peace shall ring its chime,     Its days shall all be holy time.     A sweeter song shall then be heard,     The music of the world's accord     Confessing Christ, the Inward Word!     That song shall swell from shore to shore,     One hope, one faith, one love, restore     The seamless robe that Jesus wore