O’er hoarse At­lan­tic’s wave,
From Af­ric comes the cry,
O Chris­tians! haste and save,
Ere in our want we die!
Our starv­ing souls have ne’er been fed;
Oh! bring to us the Liv­ing Bread!

And broad Pa­ci­fic’s shore
Re-echoes with the call,
From Chi­na waft­ed o’er,
Beseeching one and all
To kin­dle in the flow­ery clime
The Lamp of Life, the Light di­vine.

And Ind­ia’s my­ri­ad sons
Stretch forth their dus­ky hands;
Crying, O fa­vored ones,
Who dwell in Gos­pel lands,
Send to our long­ing, thirs­ty souls
The stream that with sal­va­tion rolls.

And shall we care­less live
With these great gifts in store?
Nor from our full­ness give
To spread from shore to shore
Glad tid­ings from the courts above
Of our Im­ma­nu­el’s bound­less love?

Pardon our cold­ness, Lord!
Our lang­uid souls in­spire.
May Thy life giv­ing Word
Kindle a ho­ly fire
In ev­ery heart that owns Thy sway
And hast­en the mil­len­ni­al day!