Thou who didst bid Thy fol­low­ers here
Proclaim a Sav­ior’s love abroad,
With ho­ly zeal our souls in­spire,
That all our aim and our de­sire
May be to glo­ri­fy our God!
Spirit di­vine! bap­tize anew
These fee­ble hearts with heav’n­ly flame;
Breathe on those bones that they may live,
These dumb lips ope and bold­ness give
To pub­lish forth a Sav­ior’s name.

The har­vest, Mas­ter, is so great,
The la­bor­ers are sad­ly few,
But Thou dost bid us on­ward press,
And well we know Thou’lt own and bless
The lit­tle that we strive to do.
Full ma­ny, Lord, in dist­ant lands
Are stran­gers to Thy love and grace;
They have not heard the Gos­pel call
Of full sal­va­tion, free to all
Of ev­ery kin­dred, ev­ery race.

And must they per­ish—pre­cious souls,
In ig­no­rance and sin and strife?
Still they for whom the Sav­ior died
In dark­ness pine, un­sa­tis­fied,
While we en­joy the Bread of Life?
O bless­èd pri­vi­lege, to speed
The Gos­pel cha­ri­ot on its way!
O high­est pri­vi­lege to sing
The prais­es of our Lord and king,
And tell His won­ders day by day.

Rouse, Chris­tian sol­diers, raise aloft
The stan­dard of the Liv­ing Word,
Ye must up­hold the true and right,
The wrong ye must re­sist and fight,
And bat­tle for a ris­en Lord.
Ye may not tell in hea­then lands
The mes­sage of re­deem­ing love,
But ye may pray, Thy king­dom come,
And help to win some wan­der­er home
Into the Shep­herd’s fold above.