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Closed Kids Poems ; Juvenile Missionary Hymn

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" Come over here and help us !”
That Macedonian cry,
From dusky Afric do we hear ;
Nor can our aid deny.
We '11 send our angel, Charity,
Beyond the deep to sow :
As mustard seed our gift may be,
A thriving tree to grow.


Its green and spreading branches
May flourish, high and fair,
Till comes the bird of Paradise
To plume her bosom there.
The little Ethiop's mind, beneath
Its shadow fresh and free,
The wreath may twine the balm may breathe
Of Immortality !


Though on the distant waters
That others may be fed,
Of Niger, Nile, or Senegal,
In faith we cast our bread ;
As rivers from their sources flow,
Increasing as they roll,
'Twill spring and spread with power, and grow,
To stay the famished soul !


Whilst here we ply the needle,
That heathen lands may win
The seamless garment Christ hath wrought,
To clothe the spirit in ;
Whoe'er but gives a widow's mite,
Or breathes a Christian prayer,
Will speed our happy angel's flight
To waft our offering there.

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