O Lord of hosts, whose glo­ry fills
The bounds of the eter­nal hills,
And yet vouch­safes, in Chris­tian lands,
To dwell in tem­ples made with hands;

Grant that all we, who here to­day
Rejoicing this foun­da­tion lay,
May be in ve­ry deed Thine own.
Built on the pre­cious cor­ner­stone.

Endue the crea­tures with Thy grace,
That shall ad­orn Thy dwell­ing place;
The beau­ty of the oak and pine,
The gold and sil­ver, make them Thine.

To Thee they all belong; to Thee
The trea­sures of the earth and sea;
And when we bring them to Thy throne,
We but pre­sent Thee with Thine own.

Endue the hearts that guide with skill,
Preserve the hands that work from ill,
That we, who these foun­da­tions lay,
May raise the top­stone in its day.

Both now and ev­er, Lord, pro­tect
The tem­ple of Thine own elect;
Be Thou in them, and they in Thee,
O ev­er bless­èd Tri­ni­ty!