From Greenland’s icy mountains,
    From India’s coral strand,

From Greenland’s icy mountains,
    From India’s coral strand,
Where Afric’s sunny fountains
    Roll down their golden sand,
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.

~ Reginald Heber

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