O Father, We Thank Thee
O Father, we thank thee for Jesus thy Son,|
For all that for us by his death he hath won,
His rising at Easter, his reign on thy throne,
His gift of the Spirit to make us thine own.
All praise to thee, Lord, for evangelists brave,
The witness by word and by life that they gave,
The Church of our fathers, the home of us all,
Her sturdy grey towers and steeples so tall.
All praise for the masons who built them so true
With axe and with chisel, the best that they knew;
All praise for the craftsmen who carved with a will,
The nave and the chancel with glory to fill.
How surely they painted, those guildsmen of old,
The screen with its martyrs aglimmer with gold!
How fair shone their windows which let the sun
And flecked the white pillars with crimson and blue!
Then ring out, ye belfries, from hill and from plain,
And thunder, ye organs, in deep-toned refrain:
Praise God, priest and people, for blessings
On Britain, our homeland. Yes, praise ye the Lord!
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