734. 7s. M. Pratt's Coll.
The Same.
1 Go! ye messengers of God,
Like the beams of morning, fly;
Take the wonder-working rod,
Wave the Banner-Cross on high!
Where th' lofty minaret
Gleams along the morning skies,
Wave it till the crescent set,
And the "Star of Jacob" rise.
2 Go! to many a tropic isle,
In the bosom of the deep;
Where the skies forever smile,
And th' oppressed forever weep!
O'er the negro's night of care
Pour the living light of heaven;
Chase away the fiend despair,
Bid him hope to be forgiven!
3 When the golden gates of day
Open on the palmy east,
Wide the bleeding cross display,
Spread the gospel's richest feast:
Circumnavigate the ball,
Visit every soil and sea;
Preach the Cross of Christ to all--
Jesus' love is full and free!
735. C. M. S. W. Livermore.
The Western Churches.
1 Our pilgrim brethren dwelling far,--
O God of truth and love,
Light thou their path with thine own star,
Bright beaming from above.
2 Wide as their mighty rivers flow,
Let thine own truth extend;
Where prairies spread and forests grow,
O Lord, thy gospel send.
3 Then will a mighty nation own
A union firm and strong;--
The sceptre of th' eternal throne
Shall rule its councils long.
736. C. P. M. Episcopal Coll.
On Western Missions.
1 When, Lord, to this our western land,
Led by thy providential hand,
Our wandering fathers came,
Their ancient homes, their friends in youth
Sent forth the heralds of thy truth,
To keep them in thy name.
2 Then, through our solitary coast,
The desert features soon were lost;
Thy temples there arose;
Our shores, as culture made them fair,
Were hallowed by thy rites, by prayer,
And blossomed as the rose.
3 And O, may we repay this debt
To regions solitary yet
Within our spreading land!
There brethren, from our common home,
Still westward, like our fathers, roam,
Still guided by thy hand.
4 Father, we own this debt of love;
O, shed thy Spirit from above,
To move each Christian breast,
Till heralds shall thy truth proclaim,
And temples rise, to fix thy name,
Through all our boundless West!
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