1 Built on the Rock, the Church doth stand,
Even though steeples be falling;
Crumble may spires in ev'ry land;
Bells still are chiming and calling,
Calling the young and old to rest.
But above all the soul distressed,
Longing for rest in the Savior.

2 Surely in temples made with hands
God the Most High is not dwelling;
High above earth His temple stands,
All earthly temples excelling;
Yet He who dwells in heav'n above
Deigns to descend to us in love,
Making our bodies His temple.

3 We are God's house, of living stones
Built for His own habitation;
He in our hearts as Sov'reign thrones,
Granting us life and salvation;
Were there but two to seek His face,
He would draw near them with His grace,
Blessings upon them bestowing.

4 Now we may gather with our King
E'en in the lowliest dwelling;
Praises to Him we there may bring,
Bounteous mercy forth-telling;
Jesus His grace to us accords,
Spirit and life are all His words,
His truth doth hallow the temple.

5 Grant then, O God, who dwell'st on high,
That when the church bells are ringing
Many to Jesus may draw nigh
Where He His message is bringing:
I know Mine own, Mine own know Me,
Ye, not the world, My face shall see;
My peace I leave with you. Amen.