Go, ye mes­sen­gers of God!
Like the beams of morn­ing fly,
Take the won­der work­ing rod,
Wave the ban­ner cross on high;
Where the lof­ty mi­na­ret
Gleams along the morn­ing skies,
Wave it till the cres­cent set,
And the Star of Ja­cob rise!

Go to ma­ny a tro­pic isle
In the bo­som of the deep,
Where the skies for­ev­er smile
And the op­pressed for­ev­er weep:
O’er their gloomy night of care
Pour the liv­ing light of Hea­ven;
Chase away their dark des­pair,
Bid them hope to be for­giv­en!

Where the gold­en gates of day
Open on the pal­my East,
Wide the bleed­ing cross dis­play,
Spread the Gos­pel’s rich­est feast:
Bear the tid­ings round the ball,
Visit ev­ery soil and sea:
Preach the cross of Christ to all,
Jesus’ love is full and free!