The Preacher's Prayer for the Flock

Shepherd of souls, the great, the good,
For the dear purchase of Thy blood
To Thee in faith we pray:
The lambs and sheep of England's fold,
Now in Thy book of life enroll'd,
Preserve unto that day.

Whom Thou by us hast gather'd in.
Defend the little flock from sin,
From error's paths secure:
Stay with them. Lord, when we depart,
And guard the issues of their heart.
And keep their conscience pure.

Soon as their guides are taken home.
We know the grievous wolves will come,
Determined not to spare;
The stragglers from Thy wounded side
The wolves will into sects divide.
And into parties tear.

Even of ourselves shall men arise.
With words perverse and soothing lies,
Our children to beset,
Disciples for themselves to make.
And draw, for filthy lucre's sake.
The sheep into their net.

What then can their protection be?
The virtue that proceeds from Thee,
The power of humble love:
The strength of all-sufficient grace.
Received in Thine appointed ways.
Can land them safe above.
1 08 Hymns for Preachers among the Methodists.

Now, Saviour, clothe them with Thy power,
And arm their souls against that hour
With faith invincible;
Teach them to wield the Spirit's sword.
And mighty in the written word
To chase both earth and hell.

When I, from all my burdens freed.
Am number'd with the peaceful dead,
In everlasting rest.
Pity the sheep I leave behind,
My God, unutterably kind,
And lodge them in Thy breast.

Ah! never suffer them to leave
The church, where Thou art pleased to give
Such tokens of Thy grace!
Confirm them in their calling here,
Till ripe by holiest love to' appear
Before Thy glorious face.

Whom I into Thy hands commend,
Wilt Thou not keep them to the end,
Thou infinite in love?
Assure me, Lord, it shall be so.
And let my quiet spirit go
To join the church above.

Siofi my first, my latest care,
The burden of my dying prayer,
Now in Thine arms I see;
And sick on earth of seeing more,
I hasten home, my God to' adore
Through all eternity.
FINIS.