Lord! when shall these glad tidings spread
The spacious earth around,
'Till ev'ry tribe, and ev'ry soul
Shall hear the joyful sound?

Oh! when shall Afric's sable sons
Enjoy the heav'nly word,
And vassels long-enslav'd become
The freemen of the Lord?

When shall these wretched, helpless tribes,
A dark bewilder'd race,
Sit down at our Immanuel's feet,
And learn and taste his grace?

Haste, Sov'reign Mercy! and transform
The hate of man to love;
Soften the tiger to a lamb,
The vulture to a dove!

Smile, Lord! on ev'ry effort made
To spread the gospel's rays;
Oh! be thy wond'rous pow'r display'd,
And thine shall be the praise.