Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold :: :: University of Virginia Library

Come rally round our glorious ark,
All ye on service bent,
And shield through tempest and the dark
Our old Establishment.
For centuries of power and pride,
The pillared Church and State
Have braved together side by side
A hundred storms of fate.
And slanders all shall vainly smirch
The bulwarks Christ has wrought—
The dear old Church, the grand old Church
For which our fathers fought.

The guardian of the weak and poor
She holds our charter deeds,
And never from her open door
Turned one who carried needs.

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Her voice has like a trumpet pealed
Down ages dim and long,
And daylight to the lost revealed
That sorrow changed to song.
The flames of trial did but search
(That made a bridal bed),
The dear old Church, the grand old Church
For which our fathers bled.

Great dynasties have come and gone,
And earthly systems set,
The sun of all but brighter shone
And shall be brighter yet.
She is builded on the Living Rock
And not on shifting sand,
And shall outlive the fiery shock
When melts the solid land.
Lies topple from their golden perch,
Not truth that God has stayed—
The dear old Church, the grand old Church
For which our fathers prayed.

Then rally round our hoary shrine,
The Priest and Sacrament,
Whose grace is naught if not divine,
The old Establishment.
She guards the lamp of holy oil,
That makes a nation live;
With peace she blesses every toil,
Which she alone can give.
The blast, that laid the silver birch,
The great oak hardly tried—
The dear old Church, the grand old Church
For which our fathers died.