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MISSIONARY HYMN

7s, 6s. D.

L. Mason

From Greenland's icy mountains, From In-dia's cor-al strand, Where Afric's sun-ny fount-ains Roll down their gold-en sand:

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810

SEND Thou, O Lord, to every place
Swift messengers before Thy face,
The heralds of Thy wondrous grace,

Where Thou, Thyself, wilt come.

2 Send men whose eyes have seen the King; Men in whose ears His sweet words ring; Send such Thy lost ones home to bring;

Send them where Thou wilt come.

3 To bring good news to souls in sin; The bruised and broken hearts to win; In every place to bring them in;

Where Thou, Thyself, wilt come.

4 Thou who hast died, Thy victory claim; Assert, O Christ, Thy glory's name! And far to lands of pagan shame,

Send men where Thou wilt come.

5 Gird each one with the Spirit's sword,
The sword of Thine own deathless word;
And make them conquerors, conquering Lord,
Where Thou, Thyself, wilt come.

6 Raise up, O Lord the Holy Ghost,
From this broad land a mighty host,
Their war-cry, "We will seek the lost,
Where Thou, O Christ, wilt come!"

Mrs. Merrill E. Gates 1889

RISEHOLME

264.

811.

8s, 4.

H. J. Gauntlett

Father of all, from land and sea The nations sing, "Thine, Lord, are we, Countless in number, but in Thee May we be one."

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HEMY 8s, 75. D.

H. F. Hemy

Chris-tians, up! the day is break-ing, Gird your read-y arm or on; Slumb'ring hosts a

round are wak-ing, Rouse ye! in the Lord be strong! While ye sleep or i

dly linger,

Thousands sink, with none to save; Hasten! Time's un-err-ing fin-ger Points to many an o-pen grave.

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WESLEY IIS, IOS.

L. Mason

4

Hail to the brightness of Zi-on's glad morning; Joy to the lands that in dark-ness have lain;

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Hushed be the ac-cents of sor-row and mourning; Zi - on in triumph be-gins her mild reign.

815

HAIL to the brightness of Zion's glad morning;
Joy to the lands that in darkness have lain;
Hushed be the accents of sorrow and mourning;
Zion in triumph begins her mild reign.

2 Hail to the brightness of Zion's glad morning,
Long by the prophets of Israel foretold;
Hail to the millions from bondage returning;
Gentiles and Jews the blest vision behold.

3 Lo, in the desert rich flowers are springing;
Streams ever copious are gliding along;
Loud from the mountain-tops echoes are ringing;
Wastes rise in verdure, and mingle in song.

4 See, from all lands, from the isles of the ocean,
Praise to Jehovah ascending on high;
Fallen are the engines of war and commotion;
Shouts of salvation are rending the sky.

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Thomas Hastings 1832

W. B. Gilbert

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