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The Church's one foundation
Is Jesus Christ, her Lord;
She is his new creation,
By water and the Word.
From heav'n he came and sought her
To be his holy bride;
With his own blood he bought her,
And for her life he died.
Though, with a scornful wonder,
Men see her sore opprest:
By foes too great to number,
By trials sore distrest,
Yet saints their watch are keeping;
Their cry goes up, "How long?"
And soon the night of weeping
Shall change to morn of song.
Mid toil and tribulation,
And tumult of her war,
She waits the consummation
Of peace forevermore;
Till, with the vision glorious,
Her longing eyes are blest,
And the great Church victorious
Shall be the Church at rest.