Assembled at Thy great com­mand,
Before Thy face, dread King, we stand;
The voice that mar­shaled ev­ery star
Has called Thy peo­ple from afar.

Constrained by love to Him who died
Thy church­es pour th’o’er­flow­ing tide;
Midst con­gre­gat­ed thou­sands here,
In all Thine an­cient pow­er ap­pear!

We meet through dist­ant lands to spread
The truth for which the mar­tyrs bled;
Along the line—to ei­ther pole—
The thun­der of Thy praise to roll.

First, bow our hearts be­neath Thy sway,
Then, give Thy grow­ing em­pire way
O’er wastes of sin, o’er fields of blood,
Till all man­kind shall be sub­dued.

Our pray­ers as­sist—ac­cept our praise—
Our hopes re­vive—our cour­age raise—
Our coun­sels aid—and oh! im­part
The sin­gle eye—the faith­ful heart!

Forth with Thy chos­en her­alds come;
Recall the wan­der­ing spi­rit home;
From Zi­on’s mount send forth the sound,
To spread the spa­cious world around.