1 Send help, O Lord, we pray,
And thy own gospel bless;
For godly men decay,
And faithful pastors cease;
The righteous are removèd home,
And scorners rise up in their room.
2 While Satan’s troops are bold,
And thrive in number too,
The flocks in Jesus’ fold,
Are growing lank and few;
Old sheep are moving off each year,
And few lambs in the fold appear.
3 Old shepherds, too, retire,
Who gathered flocks below,
And young ones catch no fire,
Or worldly-prudent grow;
Few run with trumpets in their hand,
To sound alarms by sea and land.
4 O Lord, stir up thy power,
To make the gospel spread;
And thrust out preachers more,
With voice to raise the dead;
With feet to run where thou dost call;
With faith to fight and conquer all.
5 [The flocks that long have dwelt
Around fair Zion’s hill,
And thy sweet grace have felt,
Uphold and feed them still;
But fresh folds build up everywhere,
And plenteously thy truth declare.]
6 As one Elijah dies,
True prophet of the Lord,
Let some Elisha rise
To blaze the gospel-word;
And fast as sheep to Jesus go,
May lambs recruit his fold below.
Source: A Selection of Hymns for Public Worship. In four parts (10th ed.) (Gadsby's Hymns) #374