| Lyrics |
1 How many in our favored land,
This holy day profane;
Neglect the Savior’s gracious call,
And take His name in vain;
Then while we pray for heathen climes,
Far o’er the crystal foam,
O let us ever bear in mind,
Our mission field at home.
Refrain:
Our mission field at home,
Our mission field at home;
May each and all remember still,
Our mission field at home.
2 "Go feed My lambs," our Savior said,
" bring them to My fold";
For us the same command is giv’n,
As then to him of old;
While others toil for dying souls,
Far o’er the ocean’s foam,
Be ours to wave its noble cause,
Our mission field at home. [Refrain]
3 How many a poor neglected child
With pleading eye we meet;
A gentle word might hither guide
Its little wandering feet;
A precious lamb, that God may bless,
Beneath this hallowed dome,
Then let us ever bear in mind,
Our mission field at home. [Refrain] |