From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand, Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden strand, From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error's chain. 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 God are strown; The heathen in his blindness Bows down to wood and stone. Can we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high, Can we to men benighted The lamp of life deny? Salvation! O salvation! The joyful sound proclaim, Till each remotest nation Has learned Messiah's Name. Waft, waft, ye winds, His story, And you, ye waters, roll, Till like a sea of glory It spreads from pole to pole; Till o'er our ransomed nature The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RHINOCEROS by HILAIRE BELLOC TRIFLE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CELSUS AT HADRIAN'S VILLA by EDGAR LEE MASTERS AN EPITAPH by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE A LITANY OF ATLANTA by WILLIAM EDWARD BURGHARDT DU BOIS |