The Gathering Saints

By Emily Hill

Our God is greatly to be feared
By all the nations round;
His laws must ever be revered
Where’er His Church is found.
And now those laws do us command,
To gather home to Zion’s land.

Old Israel did His name adore,
For, with an outstretched hand,
He brought them out from bondage sore,
To Canaan’s promised land;
The sea beheld His power and fled,
And Jordan rolled back to its head.

What ailed thee, sea, that thou didst flee,
And leave thy proper track?
And Jordan, too, that thou shouldst be
Arrested – driven back?
Ye mountains that rejoiced like rams?
Ye little hills that skipped like lambs?

Tremble, O earth, the Lord adore,
Who brought thee forth to light!
His August presence bow before,
For matchless is His might!
He turned the rock to limpid pool
The flint to wat’ry fountains cool!

Ye gathering Saints of latter days,
Your souls to God commend:
He will direct and guide your ways
And save you to the end!
For He has power to safely keep,
And guide you o’er the watery deep.

(1853)