What if your own were starving,
Fainting with famine, pain;
And you should know where golden grow,
Rich fruits and ripened grain;
Would you hear their wail
As a thrice-told tale,
And turn to your feast again?

Refrain

They are Christ’s own, they are your own,
Soon will their hopes be flown,
Rescue them ere they’re gone.

What if your own were thirsting,
And ne­ver a drop would gain,
And you could tell where a sparkling well
Poured forth melodious rain;
Would you turn aside
While they gasped and died,
And leave them to their pain?

Refrain

What if your own were darkened,
Without one cheering ray,
And you alone could show where shone
The pure, sweet light of day;
Would you leave them there
In their dark despair,
And sing on your sunlit way?

Refrain

What if your own were wand’ring
Far in a trackless maze,
And you could show them where to go
Along your pleasant ways?
Would your heart be light,
Till the pathway right
Was plain before their gaze?

Refrain

What if your own were prisoned,
Far in a hostile land,
And the only key to set them free,
Was held at your command;
Would you breathe free air
While they stifled there,
And wait and fold your hands?

Refrain

Yet, what else are we doing,
Dear ones, by Christ made free,
If we will not tell what we know so well
To those across the sea,
Who have ne­ver heard
One tender word
Of the Lamb of Cal­va­ry?

Refrain

They are not our own, you answer?
They are neither kith nor kin.
They are God’s own: His love alone
Can save them from their sin;
They are Christ’s own:
He left His throne
And died, their souls to win.

Refrain