WITNESS to His eternal pity
For the world's wanderers it stands,
The House of God, the Holy City,
Builded of light, not made with hands.
Without are loneliness and danger;
Within are warmth, and food, and songs:
Here is no alien and no stranger;
Here every soul of man belongs.
No saved child calls to his lost brother,
'See! I am holier than thou!'
In Christ they recognize each other;
His name is written on every brow.
And in His name all outcasts enter,
And claim their birthright through His love:
His Church is the great human centre
Towards which earth's generations move.
They come, to share His consecration;
To drink His cup of sacrifice;
To be fresh wells of His salvation,
That in life's desert shall arise.
One home, — the hearthstone of the Father;
One table, spread by His dear Son;
One Spirit drawing us together;
God's family in Him made one!
Christ tells the world her own true story;
Her failing cup fills to its brim
With love, and blessedness, and glory;
We find each other, finding Him.
His Church is heaven and earth in union;
The lift of wings, the clasp of hands!
God offering man divine communion! —
The door forever open stands.