O how sweet the voice of Jesus
When He spoke our sins forgiv’n;
O how precious is His promise,
As He lifts us nearer Heav’n.
O the millions, dying millions,
Who have never known the Lord,
Shall they hear the voice of Jesus?
Shall they die without His word?
There are millions, dying millions,
In the lands of heathen gloom,
Groping, groaning on in darkness,
Till they reach a Christless tomb.
There are many, many ’round us,
Blinded by the blight of sin,
Who will never see our Jesus,
Till with love their souls we win.
Can we live in ease and pleasure,
While they perish without God?
Fast the night of death is coming,
Soon they’ll lie beneath the sod.
Let us hasten, then, my brother,
Haste to tell them of our God;
Tell them of His great salvation,
Purchased with His precious blood.