One holy Church of God appears
Through every age and race,
Unwasted by the lapse of years,
Unchanged by changing place.
From oldest time, on farthest shores,
Beneath the pine or palm,
One unseen Presence she adores,
With silence, or with psalm.
The truth is her prophetic gift,
The soul her sacred page;
And feet on mercy’s errands swift
Do make her pilgrimage.
O living Church, thine errand speed,
Fulfil thy task sublime;
With Bread of life earth’s hungers feed;
Redeem the evil time