Where is our fathers' God,
Our fathers' God and ours?
For o'er the desert and the flood
The brooding tempest lowers.

Still nearer and more near
The shadow of that gloom;
Men's hearts are failing them for fear
Of the dread day of doom.

Still widow'd Zion mourns,
Her heart and garments rent;
And Babylon insensate scorns
Her captive's long lament.

Still o'er the heathen world
Reign darkness, lust, and pride:
The banner of the Cross is furl'd,
Where martyrs lived and died.

What is that cry that peals
The battle-field along?
Why tarry yet Thy chariot-wheels,
How long, O Lord, how long?

O God, our ears have heard
Thy wonders wrought of old:
Be it according to Thy word,
Thy suffering saints behold.

Our fathers in Thy might
Endured till set of sun;
Then pass'd into the calmer light,
Their work and warfare done.

Why should we longer stand
In doubt beside their graves?
Bid us, their mantle in our hand
Smite Jordan's sullen waves.

Where is our fathers' God?
His name has cleft the river:
Dark be the storm o'er field and flood,
Their God is ours for ever.