O’er hoarse Atlantic’s wave,
From Afric comes the cry,
O Christians! haste and save,
Ere in our want we die!
Our starving souls have ne’er been fed;
Oh! bring to us the Living Bread!
And broad Pacific’s shore
Re-echoes with the call,
From China wafted o’er,
Beseeching one and all
To kindle in the flowery clime
The Lamp of Life, the Light divine.
And India’s myriad sons
Stretch forth their dusky hands;
O favored ones,
Who dwell in Gospel lands,
Send to our longing, thirsty souls
The stream that with salvation rolls.
And shall we careless live
With these great gifts in store?
Nor from our fullness give
To spread from shore to shore
Glad tidings from the courts above
Of our Immanuel’s boundless love?
Pardon our coldness, Lord!
Our languid souls inspire.
May Thy life giving Word
Kindle a holy fire
In every heart that owns Thy sway
And hasten the millennial day!