What honor, Lord, that in your plan,
You made us part of the rescue of man!
Through us, your saints, you chose to save
And publish news of the Son you gave.
What little, O God, for Christ we’ve done,
How small our fruits, from sun to sun,
How much we shrink from labor and toil,
To sow the seed upon the soil.
What pain you feel, at News untold,
Such sorrow to see saved hearts grow cold;
When we’re at ease, with a world to round,
You’re robbed of joy at sinners found.