Bishop of souls, re­gard our cry,
Our faith­ful guide with strength sup­ply,
And hide his life above;
The teach­er teach, the lead­er lead,
The pas­tor ev­ery moment feed
With Thy suf­fi­cient love.

His hands con­firm, his breast in­spire,
And touch his lips with hal­lowed fire,
That zeal of cha­ri­ty;
That apo­sto­lic spir’t im­part,
And make him af­ter Thy own heart,
And count him wor­thy Thee.

Harden to ad­amant his brow,
His wis­dom and his mouth be Thou,
His might in­vin­ci­ble:
Arm him in all the arms di­vine,
Send forth this mes­sen­ger of Thine
To shake the gates of hell.

Thy pow­er be in his weak­ness seen,
A spec­ta­cle to fiends and men,
Support him with Thy mind:
Nor let the pas­tor die for want,
Nor let the stand­ard bear­er faint,
Assailed by all man­kind.

Be with him in that dark­est hour,
When hell ex­erts its ut­most pow­er
Thy min­is­ter to op­press;
Reviled, for­sak­en and be­trayed,
In all things like his mas­ter made,
Yet kept in per­fect peace.

When every hu­man friend is fled,
Stand by him at his great­est need,
Nor suf­fer him to fear;
Strongly up­held by Thee alone,
To make the preach­ing ful­ly known
That all the world may hear.

Unto Thy heav’n­ly king­dom keep,
And grant him there in joy to reap
What He in tears did sow;
Late to Thy pa­ra­dise re­move,
And let him to his throne above
In glo­ri­ous tri­umph go.

When rea­dy to be of­fered up,
Give him to speak th’im­mor­tal hope
That fills his swell­ing heart:
“Now let­test Thou Thy ser­vant, Lord,
According to Thy faith­ful Word
In per­fect peace de­part.

“The long, good fight I fought and won,
I all my course on earth have run,
And passed my mourn­ing days;
Have kept the faith by Je­sus giv’n,
And haste to my re­ward in Heav’n,
A crown of right­eous­ness.

That glo­ri­ous wreath which now I see,
The Lord, the right­eous Judge on me
Shall at that day be­stow,
On me, and all my breth­ren here,
Who long to see my Lord ap­pear,
And love His work be­low.

So be it, Lord, for whom we stay,
O haste the long ex­pect­ed day,
And call our friend to share,
The heav’n­ly joy of saints de­ceased,
And let us all with him be blessed,
And die to meet him there!