Holding Forth the Word

Oh, send God's holy Book where'er
Or winds can waft, or waters bear;
Let India's sons its page revere,
Let Afric's land the blessing share.

Send it to where expanded wide,
The South Sea rolls its farthest tide;
To every island's distant shore,
Make known the Saviour's grace and power.

Though scatter'd now from Sion's hill,
And Jordan's bank, and Siloa's rill,
To Israel be repaid their Book,
And pray that they to Christ may look.

Send it to ev'ry dungeon's gloom,
Send it to ev'ry poor man's room;
Nor cease the woe-worn to befriend,
Nor cease the heavenly gift to send.

May ev'ry suff'ring child of woe
Its truths believe, its comforts know;
May ev'ry hand the treasure hold,
And error's cloud away be roll'd.

Oh, Holy Ghost! who gave the word,
With thine own truth thy light afford;
Give thou the quick'ning, saving pow'r,
On all the earth thy blessings shower.

Let grace thus turn each wand'rer's eye,
To Him who did for sinners die;
And sin and sorrow hence be driv'n,
And earth be changed from earth to heav'n.

—Author unknown.

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