Ye Chris­tian her­alds, go pro­claim
Salvation through Em­ma­nu­el’s name;
To dist­ant climes the tid­ings bear,
And plant the Rose of Sha­ron there.

Ruler of worlds, dis­play Thy pow­er,
Be this Thy Zi­on’s fa­vored hour;
Bid the bright morn­ing star arise,
And point the na­tions to the skies.

Set up Thy throne where Sa­tan reigns,
On Af­ric shores, on In­dia’s plains;
On wilds and con­ti­nents un­known,
And be the uni­verse Thine own!

Speak and the world shall hear Thy voice;
Speak and the de­serts shall rejoice!
Scatter the shades of mor­tal night;
Let worth­less id­ols flee the light!

Trusting in Him, dear breth­ren, rear
The Gos­pel stand­ard void of fear;
Go seek with joy your des­tined shore,
To view your na­tive land no more.

God shield you with a wall of fire,
With flam­ing zeal your breasts in­spire,
Bid rag­ing winds their fu­ry cease,
And hush the tu­mult in­to peace.

And when our la­bors are all o’er,
Then we shall meet to part no more;
Meet with the blood bought throng to fall,
And crown our Je­sus, Lord of all!