Repent, re­pent, the Bap­tist cries
For near at hand is He
Who with the Spir­it will bap­tize:
Th’in­car­nate De­ity!
I am the voice, He th’eter­nal Word;
I but a ser­vant, He th’al­migh­ty Lord.

As Thou Thy mes­sen­ger didst send
O Lord, be­fore Thy face,
So send’st Thou ev­er, till the end,
Thy min­is­ters of grace;
Thou com­est in them; all they have is Thine;
They are but chan­nels, Thou the source di­vine.

O bless­èd Sav­ior, may we learn
Thee in Thy church to see,
Thee in Thy min­is­ters dis­cern,
And in them hon­or Thee;
Thou at the font and al­tar, Lord, dost stand,
Tending, un­seen, Thy peo­ple with Thy hand.

O may Thy pas­tors faith­ful be,
And feed with whole­some food
Thy own dear flock, re­deemed by Thee
With Thy most pre­cious blood.
So at Thy se­cond com­ing we and they
May in Thy heav’n­ly fold be safe al­way.