Stir me, oh, stir me, Lord, I care not how

lyricist: Mrs. A. Head
Composer: William Henry Monk

Stir me

oh

stir me

Lord

I care not how

But stir my heart in passion for the world

Stir me to give

to go

but most to pray;

Stir till the blood-red banner be unfurled

O’er lands that still in heathen darkness lie

O’er deserts where no cross is lifted high.

Stir me

oh

stir me

Lord

till all my heart

Is filled with strong compassion for these-souls;

Till Thy compelling word drives me to pray;

Till Thy constraining love reach to the poles

Far north and south

in burning deep desire

Till east and west are caught in love’s great fire.

Stir me

oh

stir me

Lord

till prayer is pain

Till prayer is joy

till prayer turns into praise;

Stir me

till heart and will and mind

yea

all

Is wholly Thine to use through all the days.

Stir

till I learn to pray exceedingly;

Stir

till I learn to wait expectantly.

Stir me

oh

stir me

Lord

Thy heart was stirred

By love’s intensest fire

till Thou didst give

Thine only Son

Thy best beloved One

E’en to the dreadful cross

that I might live.

Stir me to give myself so back to Thee

That Thou canst give Thyself again through me.

Stir me

oh

stir me

Lord

for I can see

Thy glorious triumph-day begin to break;

The dawn already gilds the eastern sky;

Oh

Church of Christ

arise

awake

awake.

Oh! stir us

Lord

as heralds of that day.

For night is past

our King is on His way.

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