Father , earth has habitations,
Where thy name was never known,
Where the sin-benighted nations,
Worship gods of senseless stone.
There, the poor deluded mother,
In the Ganges casts her child,
There the widow's cries they smother,
On the dreadful funeral pile.

Dying heathen, shall you perish?
Shall you sink to endless woe?
While the hope of heaven we cherish,
From the kingdom must you go?
No — the star that has arisen,
On our dark and sinful earth,
Soon shall bless your longing vision,
Soon shall speak a Saviour's birth.

No — the Gospel, we will send it
With its offers rich and free,
Oh, may power divine attend it,
Till to Christ you bow the knee.
Father, speed Redemption's story,
Through creation's wide domain,
Till the earth is filled with glory,
And our Jesus comes to reign.