O Lord! Thy Ancient Churches Spare

O Lord! Thine an­cient church­es spare

Which still Thy name

though fall­en

bear;

Where once Thy bold apos­tles stood

And sealed Thy truth with mar­tyr’s blood.

Where now the Turk his pow­er ex­tends

And vain­ly to his pro­phet bends

There let again Thy Gos­pel shine

With beams all bright

and pow­er di­vine.

Where Je­sus rose and left the grave

There let the cross its ban­ner wave;

While Sy­ria sees her church­es rise

And hymns to Christ as­cend the skies.

Let Nu­bia’s de­sert hear once more

The Sav­ior’s voice

His love im­plore;

Egypt Thy sac­red Word un­roll

And find that grace which saves the soul.