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Poem by Charles Kingsley
Accept this building, gracious Lord, No temple though it be; We raised it for our suffering kin, And so, Good Lord, for Thee. Accept our little gift, and give To all who here may dwell, The will and power to do their work, Or bear their sorrows well. From Thee all skill and science flow; All pity, care, and love, All calm and courage, faith and hope, Oh! pour them from above. And part them, Lord, to each and all, As each and all shall need, To rise like incense, each to Thee, In noble thought and deed. And hasten, Lord, that perfect day, When pain and death shall cease; And Thy just rule shall fill the earth With health, and light, and peace. When ever blue the sky shall gleam, And ever green the sod; And man's rude work deface no more The Paradise of God.
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