Hymn Poem by John Anster

'Tis an hour to think and feel!--
With prostrate heart and folded hand
And eyes uplifted, brethren kneel!
Bless, oh God, our native land!--
Cling to hope with heart and blood--
He is gracious!--He is good!
'Tis an hour to think and feel,--
For the pure of heart to kneel!

Let the panting earth rejoice
With the bell's triùmphing peal!
With the echo of man's voice
Make the hymning temple reel!
Upward o'er the lofty choir,
Like a cloud of smoke and fire,
Bid the organ's breath aspire:--
Spirits of our brethren dead,
Over us your presence spread--
While we bend in faith and fear,
Be our guardian angels here!

Native land! how sweet the sound!
Dearer, every hour more dear!
With thee, best gift, God's gifts are crowned,
Thine all we cherish and revere!
Love--Joy--the common air we breathe,
All that we have or seek beneath;
Till dying we lie down to rest,
And sink upon thy parent breast!

The joys that blossom--like in youth
First bloomed, all had their birth with thee--
Hope, Friendship, that with Love and Truth,
Like brothers, dwelt in unity.
Our first--formed prayer of gratitude;--
Faith, that in many trials stood;--
The heart, that does not fear to live,
Or die;--all these were thine to give!

God in Heaven! look down we pray,
Guard, Father, guard our native land,
God in Heaven! be thou our stay,
Spread over us thy parent hand!--
The single eye--the conscience freed--
The heart at peace is joy indeed!
If brothers here would live in love,
Then were Earth like Heaven above!

Give day by day our daily bread,--
In death oh scatter nature's dread!--
In crowded street, on pathless hill,
Where'er we be, be with us still!--
Teach rebel passions to obey,
Till sinners walk in wisdom's way!--
Poor let us be in all men's eyes,
Yet such as no man may despise!

Glad be our spirits--swift our zeal
To do what God's clear law commands!
And wakeful be our hearts to feel
What he forbids! and pure our hands!
Cleanse Thou our hearts from human pride;
And fight and conquer, on our side,
O'er Sin dethroned, and Earth denied!
And when Ambition tempts, or Gold,
Then be our spirits firm and cold!

What Fathers to their Children owe--
Men to the land that gave them birth,--
Still let us ward from watchful foe,
Still shelter all we love on earth!
Then shall our day descend in peace,
And Death shall smile, and Fear shall cease;
And see! the Angel gliding down
Through Heaven, with Heaven's pacific crown.