O where are kings and empires now

Of old, that went and came?

But, Lord, thy Church is praying yet,

A thousand years the same.

We mark her goodly battlements,

And her foundations strong;

We hear within the solemn voice

Of her unending song.

For not like kingdoms of the world

Thy holy Church, O God,

Though earthquake shocks are threatening her,

And tempests are abroad;

Unshaken as eternal hills,

Immovable she stands,

A mountain that shall fill the earth,

A house not made by hands.