Classic Poem

C ASTLEROCK Church .

A RISE , Lord, into Thy resting place,
Thou and the ark of Thy strength:
We have hewn the stone, and the shrine has grown,
A place for Thy name at length.

There is none in Heav'n but Thou, to grant
Our labour consecration;
Let Thy saints be glad, let Thy priests be clad,
Lord God, with Thy salvation.

Turn not away from this House the face
Of Thy dear anointed Son,
For Christ is alone the head corner-stone,
And the rock that we build on.

The mountains and hills proclaim God's praise,
And the blue sea by our coasts;
And the souls He has blest should bring their best
To worship the Lord of Hosts.

Sweet sound of song, and incense of prayer,
Faith deep as the mountains hoar,
And organ's crash, like the musical dash
Of waves on a rock-bound shore.

The Heav'n of Heav'ns cannot contain Thee,
All earth with Thy praise is fill'd;
Wilt Thou come at our need in very deed,
And dwell in the House we build?