Missionary Song

Missionary Song
3368

Over the ocean wave, far, far away
There the poor heathen live, waiting for day
Groping in ignorance dark as the night
No blessed Bible to give them the light

Chorus:
Pity them pity them Christians at home,
Haste with the bread of life, hasten and come

Here in this happy land we have the light
Shining from God’s own word, free, pure, and bright:
Shall we not send to them Bibles to read,
Teachers and preachers, and all that they need?

Then while the mission ships glad tidings bring,
Liat! as that heathen band joyfully sing:
Over the ocean wave, oh, see them come,
Bringing the bread of life, gulding us home