They have gone to the land
Where the pa­tri­archs rest,
Where the bones of the pro­phets are laid,
Where the chos­en of Is­ra­el
The pro­mise pos­sessed,
And Je­ho­vah His man­date dis­played.
To the land where the Sav­ior
Of sin­ners once trod,
Where He la­bored and lang­uished and died;
Where He tri­umphed o’er death
And as­cend­ed to God,
As He cap­tive cap­ti­vi­ty led.

They have gone to the land
Where the Gos­pel’s glad sound
Sweetly tuned by the an­gels above
Was re-echoed on earth
Thro’ the re­gions around,
In the ac­cents of hea­ven­ly love.
Where the Spir­it des­cend­ed
In to­kens of flame,
The rich gifts of His grace to re­veal;
Where apos­tles wrought signs
In Im­ma­nu­el’s name,
For the truth of their mis­sion to seal.

They have gone—the glad her­alds
Of mercy—have gone,
To the land where the mar­tyrs once bled;
Where the beasts and false pro­phet
Have since trod­den down,
The fair fab­ric that Zion had reared.
Where the church­es once planted,
And wa­tered, and blessed,
With the dews of the Spir­it dis­tilled,
Have been smit­ten, des­poiled!
And by hea­then pos­sessed,
And the places that knew them de­filed.

They have gone, O Thou Shep­herd
Of Is­ra­el! have gone,
The glad mis­sion in love to re­store;
Thou wilt ne­ver for­sake
Them or leave them alone,
Thy rich bless­ings we hum­bly im­plore.
Let Thy bless­ing go with them—
O be Thou their shield
From the shafts of the fowl­er that fly;
O Thou Sav­ior of sinn­ers!
Thine arm be re­vealed
In Thy mer­cy and might from on high.