O Mas­ter of the wak­ing world,
Who hast the na­tions in Thy heart,
The heart that bled and broke to send
God’s love to earth’s re­mot­est part:
Show us anew in Cal­va­ry
The won­drous pow­er that makes us free.

On ev­ery side the walls are down,
The gates swing wide to ev­ery land,
The rest­less tribes and rac­es feel
The pres­sure of Thy pierc­èd hand;
Thy way is in the sea and air,
Thy world is op­en ev­ery­where.

We hear the throb of surg­ing life,
The clank of chains, the curse of greed,
The moan of pain, the fu­tile cries
Of su­per­sti­tion’s cru­el creed;
The peo­ples hun­ger for Thee, Lord,
The isles are wait­ing for Thy Word.

Thy wit­ness in the souls of men,
Thy Spir­it’s cease­less, brood­ing pow­er,
In lands where sha­dows hide the light,
Await a new cre­at­ive hour:
O migh­ty God, set us aflame
To show the glo­ry of Thy name.