Go, ye heralds of salvation,
Publish to that barbarous nation,
Peace and pardon from our God:
Tell the heathen,
None but Christ can do them good.
While the Gospel trump you’re sounding,
May the Spirit seal the Word,
And, thro’ plenteous grace abounding,
Heathen bow and own the Lord;
God alone shall be adored.
Distant tho’ our souls are blending
Still our hearts are warm and true;
In our prayers to Heav’n ascending,
Brethren—we’ll remember you;
Heav’n preserve you,
Safely all your journey through.
When your mission here is finished,
And your work on earth is done,
May your souls, by grace replenished,
Find acceptance thro’ the Son;
Dwell for ever near His throne.
Loud hosannas now resounding,
Make the heav’nly arches ring:
Grace to sinful men abounding,
Ransomed millions sweetly sing;
While, with rapture,
All adore their heav’nly king.