O Thou, at whose almighty word,

The glorious light from darkness sprung!

Thy quick’ning influence afford,

And clothe with pow’r the preacher’s tongue.

Though ’tis thy truth he hopes to speak,

He cannot give the hearing ear;

’Tis thine, the stubborn heart to break,

And make the careless sinner fear.

As when of old, the water flowed

Forth from the rock at thy command;

Moses in vain had waved the rod,

Without thy wonder–working hand.

As when the walls of Jericho

Down to the earth at once were cast;

It was thy pow’r that brought them low,

And not the trumpets’ feeble blast.

Thus we would in the means be found,

And thus, on thee alone, depend;

To make the gospel’s joyful sound

Effectual, to the promised end.

Now, while we hear thy word of grace,

Let self and pride before it fall;

And rocky hearts dissolve apace,

In streams of sorrow at thy call.

On all our youth assembled here

The unction of thy Spirit pour;

Nor let them lose another year,

Lest thou shouldst strive and call no more.