Oft they break the mid­night still­ness—
Voices float­ing o’er the sea,
Voices filled with ten­der pa­thos,
Asking help from you and me.
And I know my Christ, my Bi­ble,
Is as tru­ly theirs as mine;
And I know that I de­fraud them,
Not to share these gifts di­vine.

We, who ne­ver knew a sor­row
God’s dear smile could not il­lume,
Little dream how dense the dark­ness
Shrouding hea­then souls in gloom.
And the Sav­ior’s last com­miss­ion
Was in lov­ing thought of them;
How His ten­der sweet com­pass­ion
Doth our cold ne­glect con­demn!

Christ, for­give the souls so faith­less
To the trust Thou didst re­pose;
For this sin let not Heav’n’s por­tals
At the last against us close.
Bless, and by our gold and sil­ver,
By our lips no long­er dumb,
We will spread abroad Thy Gos­pel,
Till on earth Thy king­dom come.