Hear the Cry
O’er the ocean’s rolling waters,
From an eastern land today,
Comes a cry from heathen daughters,
“Save us ere we’re lost for aye”;
Loud we hear their voices crying,
Borne upon each floating breeze,
For their souls in sin are dying,
While we idly wait at ease.
Who will go, oh, who will go,
Bear the message o’er the sea?
Oh, who will go?
Home and friends to us seem nearer,
As we hear their pleading cry;
Native land seems even dearer—
Still in tears they moan and sigh;
“Will not someone leave his nation?
You are saved, but we are lost!”
Jesus died for all creation—
Who will come at any cost?
“Though your home and friends you cherish,
Will you not regard the cries
From the lips of those who perish,
As they rend the vaulted skies;
Many come with sect confusion,
Who themselves are in the night,
Bringing only more delusion;
Who will bring the gospel light?”
Go, my brother, o’er the ocean,
Leave behind all earthly dross;
Prove to God thy life’s devotion,
Lift the banner of His cross;
Jesus left His home in glory,
Died to set the captives free;
Go and tell the wondrous story,
Bear the message o’er the sea.
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