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In witness of his Lord, In humble following of his Saviour dear: This is the man to wield th' unearthly sword, Warring unharmed with sin and fear.

But who can o'er suffice - What mortal—for this more than angels' task, Winning or losing souls, Thy life-blood's price? The gift were too divine to ask.

But Thou hast made it sure By Thy dear promise to thy Church and Bride, That Thou, on earth, wouldst aye with her endure, Till earth to Heaven be purified.

Thou art her only spouse, Whose arm supports her, on Whose faithful breast Her persecuted head she meekly bows, Sure pledge of her eternal rest.

Thou, her unerring guide, Stayest her fainting steps along the wild; Thy merit is on the bowers of lust and pride, That she may pass them undefiled.

Who then, uncalled by Thee, Dare touch Thy spouse, Thy very self below? Or who dare count him summoned worthily, Except Thine hand and seal he show?

Where can Thy seal be found, But on thou chosen seed, from age to age By thine anointed heralds duly crowned, As kings and priests Thy war to wage?

Then fearless walk we forth, Yet full of trembling, Messengers of God: Our warrant sure, but doubting of our worth, By our own shame alike and glory awed.

Dread Searcher of the hearts, Thou who didst seal by Thy descending Dove Thy servant's choice, O help us in our parts, Else helpless found, to learn and teach Thy love.