I would not fear; the raging seas
Should not my soul affright:
Lo, I am with you every where !
Would fill me with delight.
Oh, yes, I'd leave my native land,
And to the heathen go,

To sound aloud the gospel trump
Till all His truth should know.

The mission field is blooming white,
The laborers are few:
Lo, China opens wide her gates
And calls aloud for you.
Tahati, too, unites her voice,
Inviting you to come;

The northern Indians we can hear,
'The Cherokee says come.

I would not fear the scorching sands,
On Afric's burning shore;
Nor India's sickly climate dread,
So I might teach the poor.

Ye winds, now waft the mission ship!
Fill every swelling sail!

Till every Island of the sea,

Their Savior gladly hail.

Now give the heathen to the Son,
The earth let him possess ;
Let thy salvation spread abroad,
And reign in righteousness.
The heathen temples then will fall,
The cross will firmly stand;
And Burmah's empire blooming fair,
Become Immanuel's land.

THE INDIAN MISSION.

Blow ye, the trumpet blow!
Ye watchmen on the wall;
Let every kindred know,

On

every nation call:

Go call the Indian from the wood, And point him to his Savior God! O'er rocky mountains you must go, And widest prairies cross; And every roving tribe must know Who bled upon the Cross.

Go call the Indian from the wood,
And point him to his Savior God! .
The warriors lay their weapons down,
Their bows they now unstring;
With patient care they till the ground,
And flowers of beauty spring.

Go call the Indian from the wood,
And point him to his Savior God !

In secret now they humbly kneel,
Before their God they bow;
Their savage heart now pity feels,
They love their brother now.

Go call the Indian from the wood,
And point him to his Savior God!
No savage yell we then shall hear,
Through all the western wild;
The gospel's joyful trumpet cheers,
The tawny Indian child.

Go call the Indian from the wood,
And point him to his Savior God!

The voice of prayer we then shall hear,
As we the wigwam pass;

And countless songs of praises cheer,
Around the Indian's hearth.

Go call the indian from the wood,
And point him to his Savior God!

ZION.

O why does Zion languish here?
Why do her children mourn?
No cruel Roman to oppress,
No tyrant on the throne.

No galling chains we now do wear,
No slavery oppress;
But in the temple of our God,
Our spirits now find rest.

Down Babylon's cold streams we go,
Our harps we their unstring;

A

song

of Zion we refuse,

To our eternal King.

No inquisition now appears,
No wheel of torture rolls

To frighten those that worship him,
Who died to save their souls.

No heathen king the sceptre sways,
Despotic powers are crushed:
Our duty there we should discharge,
And in our God should trust.

Then to the altar we should go,
And wrestle with the Lord,
That he would send salvation down
And power attend his word.

Thy joys Jerusalem returns,
Will you refuse to sing;

New songs of praise unto our God,
Who doth salvation bring.

ON POPERY.

Almighty God I pray appear,
In the behalf of ours,
And stop the Romish progress here,
And crush the papal powers.

Has not the man of sin revived,
Of whom the prophet spake ;
Is he not hast'ning to our land,
Our gospel for to shake.

Princes and rulers all have joined,
To extirpate the truth;
Millions of gold have they in store,
Laid for Romish use.

up

Designing priests with haughty strides, March through our christian land, Their pois'nous doctrine they instill Into the hearts of men,

The Papal powers they do revive,
Their engines they are strong;
Our liberty they do despise,
And for our downfall long.

The Pope of Rome he hath declared,
This land shall be his own;

Shall not united christains join,
To crush the tyrant's throne.

The inquisition they'll revive,
And wheels of torture roll;
Shall we not wrestle with the Lord,
To save their guilty souls.

Our God he will defend our cause,
Our foes drive from our land;

Restore to us tranquility,

And break the Romish band.

Our pure religion we'll defend,
Though suffer martyrdom;
While in the flames we will rejoice,
And let our faith be known.

Our strength it is in God alone,
And unto him we look;

The gates of hell shall not prevail,
We'er built upon a rock.

D