Book of Hymns for Public and Private Devotion Part 70

416. 7 & 6s. M. Heber.

Missionary Hymn.

1 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 What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile?

In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of G.o.d are strewn; The heathen in his blindness Bows down to wood and stone.

3 Shall we, whose souls are lighted By wisdom from on high, Shall we to men benighted The lamp of life deny?

Salvation! O salvation!

The joyful sound proclaim, Till earth's remotest nation Shall learn Messiah's name.

417. 6 & 4s. M. Anonymous.

"How Beautiful upon the Mountains."

1 Where, for a thousand miles, The sweet Ohio smiles, On bed of sand; Where prairies blossom broad, Fair gardens sown by G.o.d, And lakes their ocean-flood Pour from His hand;

2 Where sleep in rest profound, Beneath each ancient mound, A buried race; There, brother, go and teach; From heart to heart shall reach Thy free and earnest speech Of heavenly grace.

3 Where the tall forest waves Above those mouldering graves, G.o.d's truth declare; While his first temples spread Their arches o'er thy head, Lift, o'er the slumbering dead, The voice of prayer.

4 While rolls the living tide, Down Alleghany's side, Its ceaseless flood; Upon the mountains, there, How beautiful appear The feet of those who bear Tidings of good!

5 O Thou, whose suns and rains Upon those mighty plains Fall evermore; Send down the dews of peace, The sun of righteousness, And let Thy light increase From sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e!

418. 8 & 7s. M. A. C. c.o.xe.

Western Missions.

1 Westward, Lord, the world alluring, Has Thy risen day-star beamed, And, the sinking soul a.s.suring, O'er the world's wide ocean streamed.

Westward, still, the midnight breaking, Westward, still, its light be poured!

Heathen Thy possession making, Utmost lands Thy dwelling, Lord!

2 Westward, where the waving prairie, Dark as slumbering ocean, lies, Let thy starlight, Son of Mary, O'er the shadowed billows rise!

Here be heard, ye herald voices, Till the Lord his glory shows, And the lonely place rejoices With the bloom of Sharon's rose.

3 Where the wilderness is lying, And the trees of ages nod, Westward, in the desert crying, Make a highway for our G.o.d.

Westward, till the church be kneeling In the forest aisles so dim, And the wild-wood's arches pealing With the people's holy hymn.

419. 6 & 4s. M. E. Davis.

For a Peace Meeting.

1 Not with the flas.h.i.+ng steel, Not with the cannon's peal, Or stir of drum; But in the bonds of love, Our white flag floats above; Her emblem is the dove;-- 'Tis thus we come.

2 The laws of Christian light,-- These are our weapons bright, Our mighty s.h.i.+eld; Christ is our leader high; And the broad plains which lie Beneath the blessed sky, Our battle-field.

3 What is that great intent On which each heart is bent, Our hosts among?

It is that hate may die, That war's red curse may fly, And war's high praise for aye No more be sung.

4 On, then, in G.o.d's great name!

Let each pure spirit's flame Burn bright and clear; Stand firmly in your lot, Cry ye aloud, doubt not, Be every fear forgot; Christ leads us here!

5 So shall earth's distant lands, In happy, holy bands, One brotherhood, Together rise and sing, Gifts to one altar bring, And heaven's Eternal King p.r.o.nounce it good.

420. 10 & 6s. M. *

In Time of War.

1 Lord, once our faith in man no fear could move; Now save it from despair!

The trial comes; strengthen the might of love: Father, Thou hearest prayer!

2 Thou hearest; and we hear, above this din, Thy blessed word sound clear: "I purge this land from slavery and sin; The reign of heaven draws near."

3 O, never falter, ye who strive to bring In men the heavenly birth; For still the angel hosts unfaltering sing, "Peace to the weary earth!"

4 O, never falter! peace must come by pain; Heaven is not found, but won; Hold the dark angel till he moulds again The peace he hath undone.

5 We know not, Lord, what storms and trials strong Must work our world's new birth; But we will toil, with this for working-song,-- "Peace to the weary earth!"

6 Peace to the weary, struggling, sin-sick earth!

Peace to the heart of man!

Storm shall bring calm; that high reward is worth All we must bear, or can.

421. 11 & 10s. M. Longfellow.