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.