1 Gone are those great and good
Who here, in peril, stood,
And raised their hymn.
Peace to the reverend dead!
The light that on their head
The passing years have shed
Shall ne’er grow dim.
2 Ye temples, that to God
Rise where our fathers trod,
Guard well your trust—
The faith that dared the sea,
The truth that made them free,
Their cherished purity,
Their garnered dust.
3 Thou high and holy One,
Whose care for sire and son
All nature fills—
While day shall break and close,
While night her crescent shows,
O let Thy light repose,
On these our hills.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #10145