COME OVER AND HELP US!


The feeble call comes winging,

Like a bird with strength 'most gone,

And falls upon us pleading!

Dying souls here must be won!




But the miles across the ocean,

Just as they tired the bird,

Often stills the pleading call

Till scarcely it be heard.


But if you love a soul next door,

You cannot brush aside

The cry for help, however weak,

That comes across the tide.


So, amplify, in heart of love,

Till heard both loud and clear,

Each missionary call for help

That falls upon your ear.



For if you love the souls of men

On distant, foreign shore;

You can't help wanting, too, to win,

The lost that live next door.





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