The Missionary Call

(from Hudson Taylor's autobiography)

My soul is not at rest,
There comes a strange and secret whisper to my spirit
Like a dream of night,
That tells me I am on enchanted ground.

The voice of the departed Lord, Go, teach all nations
Comes on the night air and awakes my ear.

Why live I here?
The vows of God are on me and I may not stop to play with shadows
Or pluck earthly flowers,
Till I my work have done and rendered up account.

And I will go,
I may no longer doubt to give up friends
And idol hopes,
And every tie that binds my heart to thee, my country.

Henceforth then it matters not
If storm or sunshine be my earthly lot, bitter or sweet my cup,
I only pray,
God make me holy and my spirit nerve for the stern hour of strife.

And when one for whom
Satan hath struggled as he hath for me has gained at last
That blessed shore
Oh how this heart will glow with gratitude and love.

Though ages of eternal years my spirit never shall repent
That toil and suffering once were mine below.