O God, beneath Thy guiding hand Our exiled fathers crossed the sea, And when they trod the wintry strand, With prayer and psalm they worshipped Thee. Thou heardst, well pleased, the song, the prayer; Thy blessing came; and still its power Shall onward through all ages bear The memory of that holy hour. What change! through pathless wilds no more The fierce and naked savage roams: Sweet praise, along the cultured shore, Breaks from ten thousand happy homes. Laws, freedom, truth, and faith in God Came with those exiles o'er the waves, And where their pilgrim feet have trod, The God they trusted guards their graves. And here Thy name, O God of love, Their children's children shall adore, Till these eternal hills remove And spring adorns the earth no more. |