Classic Poem

As the sun that lights creation,
Christ, the Sun of Righteousness,
Shall a land illume with glory,
Filled with sin and dark distress.

Hearken to the great commission,
Go ye all into the world,
Preach my gospel to the heathen,
Let my banners be unfurled.

Macedonia's cry, “Come over,”
Echoes from the slave of night,
“Bring the plan of my redemption”—
Ninety millions crave the light.

Can we hear that cry unheeded,
And in full contentment be?
Nay, our souls cannot be tranquil,
Till our brothers are set free.

God requires this generation's
Help before its day shall close,
Help to make that darkened country,
Bud and blossom as the rose.

Missionaries, consecrated,
Tongues of fire will surely be,
In their pentecostal showers,
Afric's bondsmen shall be free.

Jesus led a life of service,
Shielding others from despair;
If we'll enter such a mission,
He will always meet us there.

Christ has borne our burden for us,
Made His blood the ransom pay;
We should help our weaker brother,
That he faints not by the way.

If we march around the ramparts,
All true Christians in the band,
And reflect the light of Jesus,
Walls of Satan cannot stand.

May the spirit of the Master,
Counting earthly gain as loss,
Urge us to enlist the heathen
'Neath the standard of the Cross.