Through midnight gloom from Macedon
The cry of myriads as of one,
The voiceful silence of despair,
Is eloquent in awful prayer,
The soul’s exceeding bitter cry,
Come o’er and help us, or we die.

How mournfully it echoes on,
For half the earth is Macedon!
These brethren to their brethren call,
And by the Love which loved them all,
And by the whole world’s Life they cry,
O ye that live, behold we die!

By other sounds our ears are won
Than that which wails from Macedon;
The roar of gain is round us rolled,
Or we unto themselves are sold,
And cannot list the alien cry,
O hear and help us, lest we die!

Yet with that cry from Macedon
The very car of Christ rolls on!
I come; who would abide My day,
In yonder wilds prepare My way!
My voice is crying in their cry:
Help ye the dying, lest ye die.

O once, for men, of man the Son,
Yes, Thine the cry from Macedon!
O by the kingdom and the power
And glo­ry of Thine advent hour,
Wake heart and will to hear their cry;
Help us to help them, lest we die!

Yet fair the hope that speeds us on
With psalms of praise for Macedon!
Thy blessing giv’n, Thy promise bright,
Are earnest sweet of morning light,
Till Al­le­lu­ia be the cry
Of souls that live and shall not die!