Chapter_169

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O Thou, of shepherds Prince and Head,

Now on a Bishop’s festal-day

Thy flock to many a shrine have sped

Their vows to pay.

He to the high and dreadful throne

Urged by no false inspirings, prest,

Nor on hot daring of his own,

But Thy behest.

And so, that soldier good and tried,

From the full horn of heavenly grace,

Thy Spirit did anoint, to guide

Thy ransom’d race.

And he becomes a father true,

Spending and spent, when troubles fall,

A pattern and a servant too,

All things to all.

His pleading sets the sinner free,

He soothes the sick, he lifts the low,

Powerful in word, deep teacher, he,

To quell the foe.

Grant us, O Christ, his prayers above,

And grace below to sing Thy praise,

The Father’s power, the Spirit’s love,

Now and always.