C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

John Pierpont (1785–1866)

O THOU, to whom in ancient time

The lyre of Hebrew bards was strung;

Whom kings adored in songs sublime,

And prophets praised with glowing tongue:

Not now on Zion’s height alone

Thy favored worshipers may dwell,

Nor where at sultry noon thy Son

Sat weary, by the patriarch’s well:

From every place below the skies

The grateful song, the fervent prayer,

The incense of the heart, may rise

To heaven, and find acceptance there.

To thee shall age with snowy hair,

And strength and beauty, bend the knee;

And childhood lisp, with reverent air,

Its praises and its prayers to thee.

O thou, to whom in ancient time

The lyre of prophet-bards was strung,—

To thee at last in every clime

Shall temples rise, and praise be sung.