O Zion's King, we suppliant bow

1 Oh Sion's King, we suppliant bow,
And hail the grace Thy church enjoys;
Her holy officers are Thine,
With all the gifts Thy love employs.

2 Up to Thy throne we lift our eyes,
For blessings to attend our choice,
Of such whose generous, prudent zeal
Shall make Thy favored ways rejoice.

3 When pastor, saints, and poor they serve,
May their own hearts with grace be crowned;
While patience, sympathy and joy
Adorn, and through their lives abound.

4 By purest love to Christ and truth,
Oh may they win a good degree
Of boldness in the Christian faith,
And meet the smile of Thine and Thee.

5 And when the work to them assigned,
The work of love is fully done,
Call them, from serving tables here,
To sit around Thy glorious throne.

Source: The Book of Worship #383