O where are kings and empires now

Of old that went and came?

But Holy Church is praying yet,

A thousand years the same.

Mark ye her holy battlements,

And her foundations strong;

And hear within, her solemn voice,

And her unending song.

For not like kingdoms of the world

The Holy Church of God!

Though earthquake shocks are rocking her,

And tempests are abroad;

Unshaken as eternal hills,

Unmovable she stands,—

A mountain that shall fill the earth,

A fane unbuilt by hands.