WE come unto our fathers’ God:
Their rock is our salvation;
The Eternal Arms, their dear abode,
We make our habitation.
We bring Thee, Lord, the praise they brought,
We seek Thee as Thy saints have sought
In every generation.
Thomas H. Gill
WE call Him the “God of our fathers;” and we feel that there is some stability at centre, while we can tell our cares to One listening at our right hand, by whom theirs are remembered and were removed; who yesterday took pity on their quaint perplexities, and smiles to-day on ours, not wiser yet, but just as bitter and as real; and who accepts their strains of happy and emancipated love, while putting into our hearts the song of exile and the plaint of aspiration.
THE holy and good of the past, the succession of true and noble and beautiful souls, whether known or unknown, whether blazoned on the roll of the Church’s saints and apostles and prophets and martyrs, or passing their lives in lowliness and obscurity—all who have identified themselves not with the interests of the fleeting moment, but with the glory of eternal righteousness and the good of their fellow-men, all who have shared in the work of the world’s redemption—the Lord shall bring with Him in the day of His second and glorious advent to share in its consummation.