Fear Does Not Become Thee
Oh, church of God, ye Bride of Christ, Holy Pilgrim People,
Gathered in your earthly tents, marked by cross and steeple.
Fear does not become your face, nor dismal sighs your features.
Choose instead expressions more befitting of New Creatures.
Thy God hath not resigned His throne,
Nor is His power broken.
Be assured He means to keep whatever Word He’s spoken.
And with that Word, made flesh, made life, He raised thee, church, and keeps thee.
Pray tell, then, how mere words of men could ever hope defeat thee?
Tremble not at any change this world may make around you,
Only seek to keep thyself where God’s own grace surrounds you.
Be not so vain, so self-possessed, to think within your heart
That in your time you’ll see man end that which God did start.
Whether they be men without who on bad conscience pray,
Or whether they be men within who from sound practice stray.
The church’s lot, her sacred plight, is past the reach of man.
Raise no alarms of her demise. She’s in her Bridegroom’s hand.
Courage then, and humble bearing, grace and truth in equal part,
Let these and love that has no ending mark thy visage, fill thy heart.
Oh, Church of God, ye Bride of Christ, adorned for his returning,
Gathered in your earthly tents, for your Bridegroom yearning,
Beautiful to Earth and Heaven let thy count’nance be,
So others, in your peaceful bearing, the Prince of Peace may clearly see.