From our belovèd nation,
To heathen climes afar,
The blessings of sal­va­tion,
The light of Bethlehem’s star,
Has shed its ray of gladness,
Where sin’s dark tide doth roll,
And from the chains of sadness
Has raised the captive soul.

We’ve prayed for olive China,
And for the dark Karen,
And wept for fettered Burma
With all its holy men.
And asked the God of Hea­ven,
That to His blessèd Son
The kingdoms might be given—
His will on earth be done.

Then let our prayers and offerings
O Lord, accepted be,
And those who still are suffering
Thy love and glo­ry see.
From wigwam, hut and cabin,
May holy incense rise,
Till Zion wafts the chorus,
Salvation, through the skies.