Classic Poem

Thy bidding to Thy preachers, Lord,
Is " Go! a gospel-spreading host,
Baptize all kindreds in the name
Of Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."

And when, below the hands of John,
Thou madest good Thy holy rite,
Thou liftedst up Thy dripping head,
All bless'd to hearing, and to sight.

And thence the sinking in Thy font,
And rising to the daylight sky,
Betokened burial with Thee,
To rise with Thee, no more to die.

And now, by Thy allbinding word,
With this our child we come, and bow
Before Thy spring of grace, and pour
Thy hallowed stream upon his brow.

And so may he, a child of grace,
Take hence, from all his birthsin free,
The blessing of Thy Holy Ghost,
Fullown'd a child of God in Thee.

And oh! may those who give their vow
To train him to Thy holy word,
Yet bring him to the later rite,
That binds him ever to the Lord.

And may he run his earthly course,
And fight, in faith, the Christian fight,
Till when, at last, with glory crown'd,
He shares Thy bliss in heaven's light.