THE CRY OF THE LOST

I've heard of a land far away

Where millions in darkness are dying,

And they sadly moan as they pass alone

Through years of endless sighing:

"Oh! We're lost!, and at awful cost,

For we heard not the story old

Of a Savior's love and a home above,

A shelter within the fold."

I see them in anguish and tears

Unable to stifle their moaning;

But in vain they plead, not a soul gives heed,

Nor hearken to their groaning.

Yet, they'll stand at last when their life is past,

And they'll tell as they leave the throne,

That since no one came in the Savior's name,

They suffered and died alone.

Enough that the Master I love,

In sorrow and pain has been calling;

That he bids me bear of their woe my share,

For lo, the night is falling.

And they seek for light in theirhopeless plight,

For the Light that comes from above;

So I gladly go, leaving all below,

To tell them of Jesus' love.