Scripture Verse

Publish ye, praise ye, and say, O Lord, save Thy people, the remnant of Israel. Jeremiah 31:7

Introduction

Words & Mu­sic: Ar­ranged by Sar­ah L. Squire in Psalms, Hymns and Songs Spi­ri­tu­al, by Charles A. Squire et al. (St. Lou­is, Mis­sou­ri: Squire & Kinne, 1910), num­ber 91 (🔊 pdf nwc). The mu­sic has its ori­gin in Pass Me Not, O Gen­tle Sav­ior.

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Squire (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

Lyrics

Ho! ye hunt­ers through­out Zi­on,
Haste ye to the prey;
Go ye, to the Fa­ther’s chos­en,
Go while now ye may.
Iniquity has ru­ined
These child­ren of God,
And scat­tered with the hea­then
Blind, they on­ward plod.

Ho! ye fish­ers through­out Zi­on,
Go ye now and fish;
Over sea and land so brave­ly,
Search—this is His wish.
In caves of the moun­tains,
And lands o’er the sea,
Messiah in­ter­cedes to
Set His peo­ple free.

Go ye, through­out cr­uel Rus­sia;
And to In­dia’s strand,
Throughout Chi­na and through Asia,
Palestine so grand.
Through Egypt and As­sy­ria,
And Af­ric’s burn­ing sand,
O haste ye and bring them,
Back to their own land.

Go ye, through­out Ma­ce­don­ia,
Heed the out­stretched arm,
For the tribes are hast­en­ing on­ward;
Go, there’s naught to harm.
Haste ye to south­ern cli­mates,
And north through the States;
O haste, for their turn­ing,
Jesus now awaits.

Hebrew child­ren have for­sak­en
Covenants of their God—
And His eye is ev­er o’er them;
Hasten—on­ward trod.
The rem­nant He now call­eth
Of this grand old race,
To trust His Word by faith; and
Come to Him thro’ grace.

Yea, the fig tree now is bud­ding—
Summer draw­eth nigh,
And the mid­night cry is near­ing;
To God’s peo­ple fly.
Ere long the trum­pet sound­eth,
Jacob tried will be;
The tri­bu­la­tion over,
Jesus they will see.

Days of grace are swift­ly glid­ing;
Time shall be no more,
When the wit­ness is com­plet­ed,
To Him you will soar.
Then haste ye to the bat­tle;
His blest Word ful­fill—
To Ju­dah take the mes­sage—
Whosoever will.

Zion long has been down­trod­den
By the Gen­tile race;
Father pro­mised to re­store it
Thro’ the means of grace.
And Ab­ram’s seed will set­tle
All the land now trod;
O bring them as a pre­sent
To the mount of God.