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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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