Given to His Sire, our souls to heal,
  Although it cost His death.

  They to His Church of old,
  To each true Jewish heart,
In Gospel graces manifold
  Communion blest impart.

  Now of Thy love we deem
  As of an ocean vast,
Mounting in tides against the stream
  Of ages gone and past.

  Both theirs and ours Thou art,
  As we and they are Thine;
Kings, Prophets, Patriarchs—all have part
  Along the sacred line.

  By blood and water too
  God's mark is set on Thee,
That in Thee every faithful view
  Both covenants might see.

  O bond of union, dear
  And strong as is Thy grace!
Saints, parted by a thousand year,
  May thus in heart embrace.

  Is there a mourner true,
  Who fallen on faithless days,
Sighs for the heart-consoling view
  Of those Heaven deigned to praise?

  In spirit may'st thou meet
  With faithful Abraham here,
Whom soon in Eden thou shalt greet
  A nursing Father dear.

  Would'st thou a poet be?
  And would thy dull heart fain
Borrow of Israel's minstrelsy
  One high enraptured strain?

  Come here thy soul to tune,
  Here set thy feeble chant,
Here, if at all beneath the moon,
  Is holy David's haunt.