MARCH OF THE MISSIONARIES.
By Fred T. Elkin
WHERE life is wild, and ways are rude,
Where men know not the Name,
With palm and prayer, a multitude
The works of Love proclaim;
Where lands are shrouded in a mist,
Love's frontiers they extend,
And bid all nations to the tryst—
Yea, lead the lame and blind to Christ,
The Saviour and the Friend. "The world for Christ!" their slogan rings,
"For Christ the meek, the good;
The world for Christ, the King of kings,
The Soul of brotherhood!" The fever and ferment of sin
Subside to their appeal;
They bring a joy to enter in
Where dread had domicile.
Nor heathen rage avails to move
Their humble hardihood,—
Content, they tell the tale of Love
E'en tho the Master's wage should prove
The price of pain and blood. "The world for Christ—Love's own High Priest—
Peace and good-will to men."
A western star relights the east
And leads to Bethlehem. The chant bursts through earth's atmosphere
And swells from star to star,
And rolls its glorious gladness where
The Triune Watchers are;
Then angels shout the song delayed
Of dawning brotherhood,
And God, in majesty arrayed,
Looks on the work of man He made,
And smiles "to find it good." "The world for Christ, for Christ who brought
The boon of brotherhood;
Make progress for the Christ who bought
Progression with His blood!"
Denver, Colo. FRED T. ELKIN.