God of the pro­phets! Bless the pro­phets’ sons,
Elijah’s man­tle o’er Eli­sha cast;
Each age its so­lemn task may claim but once;
Make each one nob­ler, strong­er, than the last.

Anoint them pro­phets! Make their ears at­tent
To Thy di­vin­est speech; their hearts awake
To hu­man need; their lips make elo­quent
To gird the right and ev­ery ev­il break.

Anoint them priests! Strong in­ter­cess­ors, they
For par­don, and for cha­ri­ty and peace.
Ah, if with them the world might, now as­tray,
Find in our Lord from all its woes re­lease!

Anoint them kings; aye, king­ly kings, O Lord.
Anoint them with the Spir­it of Thy Son.
Theirs not a jew­eled crown, a blood stained sword;
Theirs, by sweet love, for Christ a king­dom won.

Make them apos­tles, her­alds of Thy cross,
Forth may they go to tell all realms Thy grace;
Inspired of Thee, may they count all but loss,
And stand at last with joy be­fore Thy face.

O migh­ty age of pro­phet kings, re­turn!
O truth, O faith, en­rich our ur­gent time!
Lord Je­sus Christ, again with us so­journ;
A wea­ry world awaits Thy reign sub­lime.