Scripture Verse

Wilt Thou not revive us again, that Thy people may rejoice in Thee? Psalm 85:6


John Newton (1725–1807)

Words: John New­ton, Ol­ney Hymns (Lon­don: W. Ol­iv­er, 1779), Book 2, num­ber 51. Prayer for ministers.

Music: Rath­bun Ith­amar Con­key, 1849 (🔊 pdf nwc).

Ithamar Conkey (1815–1867)

In his youth Mr. New­ton was em­ployed in plant­ing lime and lem­on trees on a plan­ta­tion in Af­ri­ca. One day his mas­ter sneer­ing­ly said to him, Who knows but by the time these trees grow up and bear, you may go home to Eng­land, ob­tain the com­mand of a ship, and re­turn to reap the fruit of your la­bor?

John New­ton real­ly did re­turn, in com­mand of a ship, and with some hope of hea­ven in his heart, and saw the trees he had plant­ed grown up and bear­ing fruit.

Sankey, p. 336


Savior, visit Thy plan­ta­tion,
Grant us, Lord, a gra­cious rain!
All will come to de­so­la­tion,
Unless Thou re­turn again.

Keep no long­er at a dist­ance,
Shine up­on us from on high;
Lest, for want of Thine as­sist­ance;
Every plant would droop and die.

Surely, once Thy gar­den flour­ished,
Every part looked gay and green;
Then Thy Word our spir­its nour­ished,
Happy sea­sons we have seen!

But a drought has since suc­ceeded,
And a sad de­cline we see;
Lord, Thy help is great­ly need­ed,
Help can on­ly come from Thee.

Where are those we count­ed lead­ers,
Filled with zeal, and love, and truth?
Old pro­fess­ors, tall as ce­dars,
Bright ex­am­ples to our youth!

Some, in whom we once de­light­ed,
We shall meet no more be­low;
Some, alas! we fear are blight­ed,
Scarce a sin­gle leaf they show.

Younger plants—the sight how plea­sant,
Covered thick with blos­soms stood;
But they cause us grief at pre­sent,
Frosts have nipped them in the bud!

Dearest Sav­ior, hast­en hi­ther,
Thou canst make them bloom again;
O, per­mit them not to wi­ther,
Let not all our hopes be vain!

Let our mu­tu­al love be fer­vent,
Make us pre­va­lent in pray­ers;
Let each one es­teemed Thy ser­vant,
Shun the world’s be­witch­ing snares.

Break the tempt­er’s fa­tal pow­er,
Turn the sto­ny heart to flesh;
And be­gin, from this good hour,
To re­vive Thy work afresh.