Thou only, Lord, thine own canst shew,
For sure thou hast a church below.
11 The gates of hell cannot prevail,
The church on earth can never fail:
Ah! join me to thy secret ones,
Ah! gather all thy living stones.
12 Scatter’d o’er all the earth they lie,
’Till Thou collect them with thine eye,
Draw by the music of thy name,
And charm into a beauteous frame.