How many in our favored land,
This holy day profane;
Neglect the Sav­ior’s gracious call,
And take His name in vain;
Then while we pray for heathen climes,
Far o’er the crystal foam,
O let us ever bear in mind,
Our mission field at home.

Refrain

Our mission field at home,
Our mission field at home;
May each and all remember still,
Our mission field at home.

Go feed My lambs, our Sav­ior said,
And bring them to My fold;
For us the same command is giv’n,
As then to him of old;
While others toil for dying souls,
Far o’er the ocean’s foam,
Be ours to wave its noble cause,
Our mission field at home.

Refrain

How many a poor neglected child
With pleading eye we meet;
A gentle word might hither guide
Its little wandering feet;
A precious lamb, that God may bless,
Beneath this hallowed dome,
Then let us ever bear in mind,
Our mission field at home.

Refrain