Thine arm, O Lord, of old

In lands of desolation,

Enclosed an humble fold,

Redeem'd a congregation:

Our fathers, like a flock,

The great, good Shepherd led,

Gave water from the rock,

With heavenly manna fed.

A poor, afflicted race,

But in Thy name confiding,

They walk'd before Thy face,

Thou in their midst abiding;

While Satan's fellest rage

With patient faith they bore;

Consumed from age to age,

Till known on earth no more.

Yet was a remnant saved;

Still wrestling with affliction,

Their foes they singly braved,

Beneath Thy benediction:

Again went forth the word,

Abroad the Spirit flew;

The voice of God was heard,

Creating all things new.

An hundred years are past,

Since that revival glorious;

And still Thy Church stands fast,

O'er earth and hell victorious;

The path our fathers trod,

Lay through Gethsemane,

Thither, O Lamb of God,

This day we follow Thee.

Thence borne to Calvary's brow,

Thy griefs and sorrows viewing,

With heart, soul, spirit, now

Our covenant renewing:

Thy love we here record,

Our sins with tears bewail;

Thy blood pleads for us, Lord;

O let that plea prevail.

Through suffering, shame, and loss,

Through honour, wealth, and pleasure,

To glory in Thy Cross,

As our eternal treasure;

That Cross with joy to bear

Through realms that know Thee not;

And thus Thy way prepare,

Still be Thy Brethren's lot.