The Missionary by Robert Hare

International Tract and Missionary Society · Oakland, California · Jan 13, 1887

The Missionary.

By Robert Hare

"HERE AM I, SEND ME."

BY ROBERT HARE.

"Then said I, Here am I, send me." Isa. 6:8.

"LORD, here am I." 'Twas thus an ancient prophet spake When in a vision he beheld Jehovah, seated on his throne; While near him choirs of seraphim, Who from his brightness veil their face, And in their joyful anthems tell The glory of the Lord of hosts.

"Lord, here am I;" for God had said, "Whom shall I send, and who will go With warnings to a sinful world?" The prophet heard, and with his lips Touched by the hallowed burning coal That cleansed his guilty soul from sin, Made answer to the call, "Send me."

Many a year has passed since then; The prophet sleeps. His warning voice That loudly rang o'er Judah's land Is silent now. His lips no more Declare the truth to sinful men.

Judge of the earth, Proud and rebellious men still need The awful warnings of thy truth, While many wait to hear thy words; And others, burdened with their sin, Now long for some sweet voice to bid Them lay it at the Master's feet.

Spirit of love, Could these poor lips of ours be touched By hallowed fire and cleansed from sin, Then would they hear thy words of truth Like thy prophetic seer of old, Whose voice o'er Judah's plain was heard.

Glad would the message of thy love By them be borne, if but the dross Of selfishness and sin were purged, And thy sad child might chance to hear Thy voice divine in accents sweet, Say unto him, "Thy sins, O child, I will forgive; Jehovah bids Thee go to all the world, and there Declare the truth."

Healdsburg, Cal.