Head of Thy suf­fer­ing Church be­low,
We ask in faith the pas­sive pow­er,
Thy per­fect strength in weak­ness show,
And arm us for the dread­ful hour.
Prepare the soul Thou first shalt call
To own in death the par­don­ing God,
To die for Him who died for all,
And seal the re­cord with his blood.

Thy har­dy sol­dier, Lord, in­ure
The dai­ly cross with joy to prove;
Give him a heart re­solved and pure,
And meek, and full of pa­tient love.
Give him, when now the day draws near,
His ut­ter help­less­ness to see;
Give him the self-mis­trust­ing fear,
The hum­ble awe that cleaves to Thee.

To Thee let him in faith look up,
And claim the suc­cors from above,
And rise to all the strength of hope,
To all th’om­ni­po­tence of love.
O’erwhelm him with th’amaz­ing grace,
That He, so poor, so self ab­horred,
Least of the blood be­sprin­kled race,
That he should suf­fer for his Lord!

Give him th’in­du­bi­ta­ble sign,
That all his suf­fer­ings are for Thee;
Assure his heart the cause is Thine,
And Thou wilt get the vic­to­ry.
Give him, before he bows his head,
The sight to fer­vent Ste­phen giv­en,
The ev­er­last­ing doors dis­played,
The glo­ries of a wide­spread Hea­ven.

Show him Thy­self at God’s right hand:
Thou on the faith­ful soul look down,
Thou by thy dy­ing cham­pi­on stand,
And give to him the star­ry crown.
Inspire him with Thy ten­der care
For those who nailed Thee to the wood,
And give to his ex­pir­ing pray­er
The men that drive his soul to God.