From our be­lov­èd na­tion,
To hea­then climes afar,
The bless­ings of sal­va­tion,
The light of Beth­le­hem’s star,
Has shed its ray of glad­ness,
Where sin’s dark tide doth roll,
And from the chains of sad­ness
Has raised the cap­tive soul.

We’ve prayed for ol­ive Chi­na,
And for the dark Ka­ren,
And wept for fet­tered Bur­ma
With all its ho­ly men.
And asked the God of Heav­en,
That to His bless­èd Son
The king­doms might be giv­en—
His will on earth be done.

Then let our pray­ers and of­fer­ings
O Lord, ac­cept­ed be,
And those who still are suf­fer­ing
Thy love and glo­ry see.
From wig­wam, hut and ca­bin,
May holy in­cense rise,
Till Zi­on wafts the chor­us,
Salvation, through the skies.