O Lord, Thy work revive,
In Zion’s gloomy hour,
And make her dying graces live
By Thy restoring power.

O let Thy chosen few
Awake to earnest prayer;
Their covenant again renew,
And walk in filial fear.

Thy Spirit then will speak
Through lips of humble clay,
Till hearts of adamant shall break,
Till rebels shall obey.

Now lend Thy gracious ear;
Now listen to our cry;
O come and bring salvation near;
Our souls on Thee rely.

Revive Thy work, O Lord,
Thy mighty arm make bare;
Speak with the voice that wakes the dead,
And make Thy people hear.

Revive Thy work, O Lord,
Disturb this sleep of death;
Quicken the smold’ring embers now
By Thine almighty breath.

Revive Thy work, O Lord,
Create soul-thirst for Thee;
And hungering for the Bread of Life
O may our spirits be.

Revive Thy work, O Lord,
Exalt Thy precious Name;
And, by the Holy Ghost, our love
For Thee and Thine inflame.

Revive Thy work, O Lord,
Give Pentecostal showers;
The glory shall be all Thine own,
The blessing, Lord, be ours.

“Lord, Thy glory fills the heaven;
Earth is with its fullness stored;
Unto Thee be glory given,
Holy, holy, holy Lord!”
Heaven is still with glory ringing;
Earth takes up the angels’ cry,
“Holy, holy, holy” singing,
“Lord of Hosts, the Lord Most High.”

Ever thus, in God’s high praises,
Brethren, let our tongues unite,
While our thought His greatness raises,
And our love His gifts excite;
With His seraph train before Him,
With His holy Church below,
Thus conspire we to adore Him,
Bid we thus our anthem flow.

“Lord, Thy glory fills the heaven;
Earth is with its fullness stored;
Unto Thee be glory given,
Holy, holy, holy Lord!”
Thus Thy glorious Name confessing,
We adopt the angels’ cry,
“Holy, holy, holy” blessing
Thee, the Lord of Hosts Most High!

Rod of the Root of Jesse,
Thou, Flower of Mary born,
From that thick shady mountain
Cam’st glorious forth this morn:
Of her, the ever virgin,
Incarnate wast Thou made,
The immaterial Essence,
The God by all obeyed!
Glory, Lord, Thy servants pay
To Thy wondrous might today!

The Gentiles’ expectation,
Whom Jacob’s words foretell,
Who Syria’s pride shall vanquish,
Samaria’s power shalt quell;
Thou from the Root of Judah
Like some fair plant dost spring,
To turn old Gentile error
To Thee, its God and King!
Glory, Lord, Thy servants pay
To Thy wondrous might today!

In Balaam’s ancient vision
The eastern seers were skilled;
They marked the constellations,
And joy their spirits filled;
For Thou, bright Star of Jacob,
Arising in Thy might,
Didst call these Gentile first-fruits
To worship in Thy light.
They, in holy reverence bend,
Gifts acceptable present.

As on a fleece descending
The gentle dews distill,
As drops the earth that water,
The virgin didst Thou fill.
Tarshish and Ethiopia,
The Isles and Araby,
And Media, leagues with Sheba,
Fall down and worship Thee.
Glory, Lord, Thy servants pay
To Thy wondrous might today!