A children's temple here we build,

And consecrate it, Lord, to Thee;

In hope, that with Thy presence fill'd,

These humble walls henceforth may be.

When Christ, Thy Holy Child, was born,

He had not where to lay His head;

Though King of kings, He did not scorn

The meanness of a manger-bed.

He, who the throne of glory shares,

Came down, that we, through sovereign love,

Might be God's children, and God's heirs,

Joint-heirs with Him in bliss above.

And is He not to-day the same,

And deigns He not to visit there,

Where two or three, in His great Name,

Are met for worship, praise, and prayer?

Ah! yes, where simple souls are taught

To know and do His Father's will,

Or infants to His arms are brought,

He welcomes all, and blesses still.

Come, Holy Ghost! while we draw nigh,

Such life and power to us afford,

That each may "Abba, Father!" cry,

And young and old call Jesus, Lord.