1 O Son of God, our Captain of salvation, Thyself by suffering schooled to human grief, We bless Thee for Thy sons of consolation, Who follow in the steps of Thee their Chief; 2 Those whom Thy Spirit's dread vocation severs, To lead the vanguard of Thy conquering host; Whose toilsome years are spent in brave endeavors To bear Thy saving Name from coast to coast; 3 Those whose bright faith makes feeble hearts grow stronger, And sends fresh warriors to the great campaign, Bids the lone convert feel estranged no longer, And wins the sundered to be one again; 4 And all true helpers, patient, kind, and skilful, Who shed Thy light across our darkened earth, Counsel the doubting, and restrain the wilful, Soothe the sick bed, and share the children's mirth. 5 Thus, Lord, Thy Barnabas in memory keeping, Still be Thy Church's watchword, "Comfort ye;" Till in our Father's house shall end our weeping, And all our wants be satisfied in Thee.