O Father May Thy Word Prevail

O Father, may Thy Word prevail
Against the gates of hell!
Behold the vineyard Thou hast tilled
With thorns and thistles filled.
‘Tis true, Thy plants are there;
But, ah, how weak and rare!
How slight the pow’r in evidence
Of Word and Sacraments!

Come, Jesus, come and contemplate
Thy vineyard’s sad estate;
Baptized are millions in Thy name,
But where is faith’s pure flame?
Of what avail that we
Know of Thine agony
So long as we do not o’erthrow
In faith the wicked foe?

O Holy Ghost, to Thee, our light,
We cry by day, by night:
Come, grant us of the light and pow’r
Our fathers had of yore;
When Thy dear Church did stand
A tree, deep-rooted, grand;
Full-crowned with blossoms white as snow,
With purple fruits aglow!