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So, brethren, we,
Though weak we be,

If scattered, 'gainst our foes,

When hand in hand

We take our stand,

May all their strength oppose.

We put not trust

In this poor dust,
In fleshy sword or shield;

But God's own word,

The Spirit's sword,


weapon that we wield.

Not ours to prey,
Or wound or slay,

Or fellow men to enslave;

We fight to win

The world from sin,

And soul and body save.

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High blows the wind, and strong the gale,
Which fills the mission vessel's sail;
Go forth, ye noble spirits, go,

The Lord himself stands at the prow,
The Lord will speed you on your way,
Your guide by night, your guide by day,
Till ye shall reach the appointed bay.

"Tis not for gold ye're sailing o'er
The mighty ocean's deafening roar;
"Tis not that ye would fain disown
Your native land for lands unknown;
"Tis not to view with rapt'rous eyes
The splendid landscape, splendid skies
Of some far distant Paradise:

A nobler motive prompts your quest,
A holier purpose fills your breast;
Moved by the Spirit from above,
Yours is a voyage full of love;
The bread of life ye take to feed
The famished nations in their need;

Well, Christian merchants, may ye speed!




My brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might.”

Men, brothers bold,

To sin and Satan sold,

Bear not to be the thralls

Of him whose bondage galls;
Know, Christ for you has died,
And broke the oppressor's pride;
His subjects be,

Rally beneath his banner, and be free.

What! still remain,

And hug the deadly chain !
Shall prisoners refuse

The freedom they may choose?
Shall Christ in vain have shed

His blood for souls so dead?

Arm for the strife,

Do battle for your liberty-your life.

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