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.