1 Thy Temple is not made with hands,
'Tis lit by many a golden star;
The purple height of mountain lands
Its everlasting pillars are.
2 Thee, highest heaven cannot contain,
Great Lord of earth, and sky, and sea!
Yet enter in, and bless the fane
Adoring hands have reared for Thee.
[3* Unworthy gifts and touched with fears,
And memories of our loved at rest;
Draw nigh, O Lord, and dry our tears,
And be Thy presence here confest.]
4 For welcome to the babe new-born,
For strengthening hands on bended head,
For blessings on the marriage morn,
And sweet words whispered o'er the dead;
5 For food divine to souls sufficed,
For words that warn, for prayers that press,
Arise and enter in, O Christ!
And with Thy presence all things bless.
6 So praise to Thy great Name shall rise
Up from these walls, this sacred floor,
Who made, Who saves, Who sanctifies,
Forever and for evermore.
* To be used of a memorial church
Source: The Church Hymnal: revised and enlarged in accordance with the action of the General Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America in the year of our Lord 1892. (Ed. B) #295
Thy Temple is not made with hands. Cecil F. Alexander. [Consecration of a Church.] This hymn is in Mrs. Alexander's Poems, 1896, p. 49, as a "Consecration Hymn." Its date has not been determined.
--John Julian, Dictionary of Hymnology, New Supplement (1907)