The earth, O Lord, is one wide field
Of all thy chosen seed;
The crop prepared its fruit to yield,
The labourers few indeed.

We therefore come before thee now
With fasting and with prayer,
Beseeching of thy love that thou
Wouldst send more labourers there.

Not for our land alone we pray,
Though that above the rest;
The realms and islands far away,
O let them all be blest.

Endue the bishops of thy flock
With wisdom and with grace,
Against false doctrine like a rock
To set the heart and face.

To all thy priests thy truth reveal,
And make thy judgements clear;
Make thou thy deacons full of zeal,
And humble and sincere:

And give their flocks a lowly mind
To hear - and not in vain;
That each and all may mercy find
When thou shalt come again.


J. M. Neale