1 Built on the rock the church does stand,
Even when steeples are falling;
Crumbled have spires in every land,
Bells still are chiming and calling;
Calling the young and old to rest,
But above all the soul distressed,
Longing for rest everlasting.

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 whom heavens cannot contain
Chose to abide on earth with men,
Built in our bodies his temple.

3 We are God's house of living stones,
Builded for his habitation;
He through baptismal grace us owns,
Heirs of his wondrous salvation;
Were we but two his name to tell,
Yet he would deign with us to dwell,
With all his grace and His favor.

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

Amen.