Written For The Dedication Of The Vine Street Methodist Episcopal Church, Buffalo <br /> <br />God of our sires! before thy throne <br />Our humble offering now we bring; <br />Deign to accept it as thine own, <br />And dwell therein, Almighty King. <br />Around thy glorious throne above <br />Angels and flaming seraphs sing, <br />Archangels own thy boundless love, <br />And cherubim their tribute bring. <br /> <br /> <br />And every swiftly rolling sphere, <br />That wends its way through boundless space, <br />Hymns forth, in chorus loud and clear, <br />Its mighty Maker's power and grace. <br />It is not ours to bear the parts <br />In that celestial song of praise, <br />But here, oh Lord! with grateful hearts, <br />This earthly fane to thee we raise. <br /> <br /> <br />Oh, let thy presence fill this house, <br />And from its portals ne'er depart; <br />Accept, oh Lord! the humble vows <br />Poured forth by every contrite heart. <br />No sacrifice of beast or bird, <br />No clouds of incense here shall rise, <br />But in accordance with thy word, <br />We'll bring a holier sacrifice. <br /> <br /> <br />Here shall the hoary-headed sire <br />Invoke thy grace on bended knee, <br />While youth shall catch the sacred fire, <br />And pour its song of praise to thee. <br />Let childhood, too, with stammering tongue, <br />Here lisp thy name with reverent awe, <br />And high, and low, and old, and young, <br />Be brought t' obey thy holy law. <br /> <br /> <br />And when our spirits shall return <br />Back to the God who gave them birth, <br />And these frail bodies shall be borne <br />To mingle with their kindred earth - <br />Then, in that house not made with hands, <br />New anthems to thy praise we'll sing, <br />To thee, who burst our slavish bands, <br />Our Savior, prophet, priest and king.<br /><br />James Monroe Whitfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-hymn-10/
