Scripture Verse

From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same, My name shall be great among the Gentiles. Malachi 1:11

Introduction

Words: Hen­ry W. Fox, 1848. This hymn was writ­ten for the ju­bi­lee of the Church Mis­sion­ary So­ci­ety, prob­ab­ly in Ma­su­li­pa­tam (now Mac­hi­li­pat­nam, An­dhra Pra­desh), In­dia, where Fox had found­ed the Te­le­gu Mis­sion.

Music: Ju­bi­lee John H. Maun­der (1858–1920) (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Maun­der (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

portrait
Henry W. Fox (1817–1848)

Lyrics

I hear ten thou­sand voices sing­ing,
Their prais­es to the Lord on high;
Far dis­tant shores and hills are ring­ing
With an­thems of their na­tions’ joy.
Praise ye the Lord! for He has giv­en,
To lands in dark­ness hid, His light;
As morn­ing rays light up the hea­ven,
His Word has chased away our night.

On Chi­na’s shores I hear His prais­es,
From lips that once kissed id­ol stones;
Soon as His ban­ner He up­rais­es,
The Spir­it moves the breath­less bones—
Speed, speed! Thy Word o’er land and ocean;
The Lord in tri­umph has gone forth;
The na­tions hear with strange emo­tion,
From East to West, from South to North.

The song has sound­ed o’er the wa­ters,
And In­dia’s plains re-echo joy;
Beneath the moon sit In­dia’s daugh­ters,
Soft sing­ing, as the wheel they ply—
Thanks to Thee, Lord! for hope of glo­ry,
For peace on earth to us re­vealed;
Our cher­ished id­ols fell be­fore Thee,
Thy Spir­it has our par­don sealed.

On Af­ric’s sun­ny shore, glad voic­es
Wake up the morn of Ju­bi­lee;
The ne­gro, once a slave, re­joic­es,
Who’s freed by Christ is doub­ly free:
Sing, bro­thers, sing! yet ma­ny a na­tion
Shall hear the voice of God and live;
E’en we are her­alds of sal­va­tion,
The Word He gave we’ll free­ly give.

Fair are New Zea­land’s wood­ed mount­ains,
Deep glens, blue lakes and diz­zy steeps;
But sweet­er than the mur­mur­ing fount­ains
Rises the song from ho­ly lips:
By blood did Je­sus come to save us,
So deep­ly stained with bro­thers’ blood;
Our hearts we’ll give to Him who gave us
Deliverance from the fie­ry flood.

O’er prair­ies wild the song is spread­ing
Where once the war-cry sound­ed loud;
But now the ev­en­ing sun is shed­ding
His rays up­on a pray­ing crowd:
Lord of all worlds, eter­nal Spir­it!
Thy light up­on our dark­ness shed;
For Thy dear love, for Je­sus’ mer­it,
From joy­ful hearts be wor­ship paid.

Hark! hark! a loud­er sound is boom­ing
O’er Heav’n and earth, o’er land and sea;
The an­gel’s trump pro­claims His com­ing—
Our day of end­less Jubilee:
Hail to Thee, Lord! Thy peo­ple praise Thee;
In ev­ery land Thy name we sing;
On Hea­ven’s eter­nal throne up­raise Thee;
Take Thou Thy pow­er, Thou glo­ri­ous king.