Our coun­try’s voice is plead­ing,
Ye men of God, arise!
His pro­vi­dence is lead­ing,
The land be­fore you lies;
Day-gleams o’er it are bright­en­ing,
And pro­mise clothes the soil;
Wide fields, for har­vest whit­en­ing,
Invite the reap­er’s toil.

Go where the waves are break­ing
On Ca­li­for­nia’s shore,
Christ’s pre­cious Gos­pel tak­ing,
More rich than golden ore;
On Al­le­ghe­ny’s mount­ains,
Through all the west­ern vale,
Beside Mis­sou­ri’s foun­tains,
Rehearse the won­drous tale.

Where prair­ie flow­ers are bloom­ing
Plant Sha­ron’s fair­er rose;
The far­thest wilds il­lum­ing,
With light that ev­er glows;
To each lone for­est rang­er,
The Word of Life un­seal;
To ev­ery ex­ile stran­ger,
Its sav­ing truths re­veal.

The love of Christ un­foldi­ng,
Speed on from east to west,
Till all, His cross be­hold­ing,
In Him are ful­ly blest.
Great A­uthor of sal­va­tion,
Haste, haste the glo­ri­ous day,
When we, a ran­somed na­tion,
Thy scep­ter shall ob­ey!