The men who slight Thy faithful word
In their own lies confide,
These are the temple of the Lord,
And heathens all beside!
The temple of the Lord are these,
The only church and true,
Who live in pomp, and wealth, and ease,
And Je­sus ne­ver knew.

The temple of the Lord—they pull
Thy living temples down,
And cast out every gracious soul
That trembles at Thy frown:
The church—they from their pale ex­pel
Whom Thou hast here for­giv­en:
And all the synagogue of hell
Are the sole heirs of Hea­ven!

O would’st Thou, Lord, reveal their sins,
And turn their joy to grief,
The world, the Chris­tian world con­vince
Of damning unbelief;
The formalists confound, con­vert,
And to Thy people join,
And break, and fill the brok­en heart
With confidence divine!