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'an ancient river,
From many'a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain.

What tho' the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle,
Tho' ev'ry prospect pleases,
And only man is vile,
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in their blindness
Bow down to wood and stone.

Shall we, whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to man benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! O salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till earth's remotest nation
Has heard Messiah's Name.