455 | Missionary Hymn. 7s & 6s. D.
(1061) Condition of the Heathen.
From Greenland’s icy mountains,
From India’s coral strand—
Where Afric’s sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand—
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain—
They call us to deliver
Their land from error’s chain.
2 Shall we, whose souls are lighted
By wisdom from on high,
Shall we to man benighted
The light of life deny?
Salvation! oh, salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth’s remotest nation
Has learned Messiah’s name.
3 Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,
And you, ye waters, roll,
Till like a sea of glory
It spreads from pole to pole,
Till o’er our ransomed nature
The Lamb, for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss returns to reign.
Reginald Heber, 1819.