Hark! The heathen lands are calling,
Asking, pleading—Hear their cry?!
“Please send someone who will tell us
How the Saviour came to die!”
Perishing in sin’s sad anguish;
Who will tell them of Christ’s love?
Who will spend their life in service,
For the One who’s shown them love?
God has giv’n His Son so precious,
Thus has paid the price so high;
Oh, but someone must go tell them,
Ere they perish,—Ere they die!
“Lord, behold the fields of harvest,
Ripened heads of golden grain;
Send more labour’rs these to gather,
Lest Christ’s death for them be vain!”
Other nations, foreign cultures,
How they tug upon my heart!
To show them the love of Jesus,
Gladly with this land I’ll part.
“Here am I, oh, Father send me,
Wheresoever Thou dost choose;
Just to bring more souls to Jesus,
I would my life in Thee lose!”
