From Greenland's Icy Mountains

From Greenland's icy mountains, From India's coral strand; Where Afric's sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand, From many ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliever Their land from error's chain.

That though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's Isle, Though ev'ry prospect pleases, And only man is vile; In vain with Iavish 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! Oh, salvation! The joyful sound proclaim, Till each remotest nation Has learnt 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.