 | The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth |  |
GOD IN HIS TEMPLE.
God is in his holy temple,
Sons of earth be silent now;
Hither let the saints assemble,
And before his footstool bow.
Lo, he 's present with us ever,
When assembled in his name;
Aiding every good endeavor,
Guiding every humble aim.
Sons of earth be silent now;
Hither let the saints assemble,
And before his footstool bow.
Lo, he 's present with us ever,
When assembled in his name;
Aiding every good endeavor,
Guiding every humble aim.
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God is in his holy temple,
'T is each renovated mind;
Where the purer thoughts assemble,
While the base are cast behind.
Every earthly, low affection,
Long opposed, is silent now;
Every passion, in subjection,
Must at Wisdom's altar bow.
'T is each renovated mind;
Where the purer thoughts assemble,
While the base are cast behind.
Every earthly, low affection,
Long opposed, is silent now;
Every passion, in subjection,
Must at Wisdom's altar bow.
God is in his holy temple,
'T is the church he calls his own,
'T is the city where assemble
All who worship him alone.
New Jerusalem the holy
Is the city of our God,
There our Saviour governs solely,
With the balance and the rod.
'T is the church he calls his own,
'T is the city where assemble
All who worship him alone.
New Jerusalem the holy
Is the city of our God,
There our Saviour governs solely,
With the balance and the rod.
God is in his holy temple,
'T is the body of our Lord;
Infidels may doubt and tremble,
We have learned it from his Word;
From the Word which wrought creation,
From that Word which flesh became,
Which alone can give salvation—
God and Jesus are the same.
'T is the body of our Lord;
Infidels may doubt and tremble,
We have learned it from his Word;
From the Word which wrought creation,
From that Word which flesh became,
Which alone can give salvation—
God and Jesus are the same.
| The poetical works of Samuel Woodworth | |