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Missionary Song

8, 7, 4

S. B. Pond



O'er the gloomy hills of darkness,

Look, my soul! be still and gaze;

All the promises do travail

With a glorious day of grace:

Blessed jubilee! blessed jubilee!

Let thy glorious morning dawn.


Let the Indian, let the Negro,

Let the rude barbarian see

That divine and glorious conquest

Once obtained on Calvary;

Let the gospel, let the gospel,

Loud resound from pole to pole.


Kingdoms wide, that sit in darkness,

Grant them, Lord, the glorious light,

And from eastern coast to western

May the morning chase the night:

And redemption, and redemption,

Freely purchased, win the day.


May the glorious day approaching,

On the grossest darkness dawn;

And the everlasting gospel

Spread abroad thy holy name—

All the borders, all the borders,

Of the great Emmanuel's land.


Fly abroad, thou mighty Gospel,

Win and conquer, never cease;

May thy lasting, wide dominions

Multiply and still increase;

Sway the sceptre, sway the sceptre,

Savior, all the world around.

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