George Pope Morris (1802-1864 / USA)
The Rock of the Pilgrims.
A rock in the wilderness welcomed our sires,
From bondage far over the dark-rolling sea;
On that holy altar they kindled the fires,
Jehovah, which glow in our bosoms for Thee.
Thy blessings descended in sunshine and shower,
Or rose from the soil that was sown by Thy hand;
The mountain and valley rejoiced in Thy power,
And heaven encircled and smiled on the land.
The Pilgrims of old an example have given
Of mild resignation, devotion, and love,
Which beams like the star in the blue vault of heaven,
A beacon-light swung in their mansion above.
In church and cathedral we kneel in OUR prayer--
Their temple and chapel were valley and hill--
But God is the same in the isle or the air,
And He is the Rock that we lean upon still.
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