My Church My Church

My Church My Church 

My Church ! my Church ! my dear old Church!
My fathers’ and my own!
On prophets and Apostles built,
And Christ, the corner-stone!
All else beside, by storm and tide,
May yet be overthrown:
But not my Church - my dear old Church -
My fathers’ and my own!
 
My Church ! my Church ! my dear old Church!
My glory and my pride!
Firm in the faith Immanuel taught,
She holds no faith beside.
Upon this rock, ‘gainst every shock,
Though gates of hell assail,
She stands secure, with promise sure,
“They never shall prevail”
 
My Church ! My Church ! my dear old Church!
I love her ancient name;
And God forbid, a child of hers,
Should ever do her shame!
Her mother-care, I’ll ever share;
Her child I am alone,
Till He who gave me to her arms
Shall call me to His own
 
My Church ! my Church ! my dear old Church!
I’ve heard the tale of blood.
Of hearts that loved her to the death -
The great, the wise, the good.
Our martyred sires defied the fires
For Christ the crucified;
The once delivered faith to keep,
They burned, they bled, they died.
 
My Church ! my Church ! my dear old Church!
For she exalts my Lord!
She speaks, she breathes, she teaches not,
But from His written Word.
And if her voice bids me rejoice,
From all my sins released;
‘Tis through the atoning sacrifice,
And Jesus is the Priest.
 
My Church ! my Church ! my dear old Church!
The child would add a vow,
To the whose token once was signed,
Upon this infant brow:-
Assault who may kiss and betray,
Dishonor and disown.
My church shall yet be dear to me,
My fathers and my own!
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Let me sing for my beloved my love-song concerning his vineyard: My beloved had a vineyard on a very fertile hill. ~ Isiah 5:1