God of the prophets! Bless the prophets' sons,
Elijah's mantle o'er Elisha cast;
Each age its solemn task may claim but once;
Make each one nobler, stronger, than the last.

Anoint them prophets! Make their ears attent
To Thy divinest speech; their hearts awake
To human need; their lips make eloquent
To gird the right and every evil break.

Anoint them priests! Strong intercessors, they
For pardon, and for charity and peace.
Ah, if with them the world might, now astray,
Find in our Lord from all its woes release!

Anoint them kings; aye, kingly kings, O Lord.
Anoint them with the Spirit of Thy Son.
Theirs not a jeweled crown, a blood stained sword;
Theirs, by sweet love, for Christ a kingdom won.

Make them apostles, heralds of Thy cross,
Forth may they go to tell all realms Thy grace;
Inspired of Thee, may they count all but loss,
And stand at last with joy before Thy face.

O mighty age of prophet kings, return!
O truth, O faith, enrich our urgent time!
Lord Jesus Christ, again with us sojourn;
A weary world awaits Thy reign sublime.

Here, O my Lord, I see Thee face to face;
Here would I touch and handle things unseen;
Here grasp with firmer hand eternal grace,
And all my weariness upon Thee lean.

This is the hour of banquet and of song;
This is the heavenly table spread for me;
Here let me feast, and feasting, still prolong
The hallowed hour of fellowship with Thee.

Here would I feed upon the bread of God,
Here drink with Thee the royal wine of Heaven;
Here would I lay aside each earthly load,
Here taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.

I have no help but Thine; nor do I need
Another arm save Thine to lean upon;
It is enough, my Lord, enough indeed;
My strength is in Thy might, Thy might alone.

I have no wisdom save in Him Who is
My Wisdom and my Teacher both in One;
No wisdom can I lack while Thou art wise;
No teaching do I crave save Thine alone.

Mine is the sin, but Thine the righteousness:
Mine is the guilt, but Thine the cleansing blood;
Here is my robe, my refuge, and my peace;
Thy Blood, Thy righteousness, O Lord my God!

Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear;
The feast, though not the love, is past and gone.
The bread and wine remove; but Thou art here,
Nearer than ever, still my Shield and Sun.

Feast after feast thus comes and passes by;
Yet, passing, points to the glad feast above,
Giving sweet foretaste of the festal joy,
The Lamb's great bridal feast of bliss and love.

Alternative lyrics:
By: Glory to God: the Presbyterian Hymnal‎

Here, O our Lord, we see you face to face.
Here would we touch and handle things unseen,
here grasp with firmer hand eternal grace,
and all our weariness upon you lean.

Here would we feed upon the bread of God,
here drink with you the royal cup of heaven;
here would we lay aside each earthly load,
and taste afresh the calm of sin forgiven.

This is the hour of banquet and of song;
this is the heavenly table for us spread.
Here let us feast and, feasting, still prolong
the fellowship of living wine and bread.

Too soon we rise; the symbols disappear.
The feast, though not the love, is past and gone;
the bread and wine remove, but you are here,
nearer than ever, still our shield and sun.

Feast after feast thus comes and passes by,
yet, passing, points to that glad feast above,
giving sweet foretaste of the festal joy,
the Lamb's great bridal feast of bliss and love.

(More information at: hymnary.org)