A Missionary Cry

A hun­dred thou­sand souls a day

Are pass­ing one by one away

In Christ­less guilt and gloom;

Without one ray of hope or light

With fu­ture dark as end­less night

They’re pass­ing to their doom

They’re pass­ing to their doom.

They’re pass­ing

pass­ing fast away

In thou­sands day by day;

They’re pass­ing to their doom

They’re pass­ing to their doom.

O Ho­ly Ghost

Thy peo­ple move

Baptize their hearts with faith and love

And con­se­crate their gold.

At Je­sus’ feet their mill­ions pour

And all their ranks unite once more

As in the days of old

As in the days of old.

The Mas­ter’s com­ing draw­eth near;

The Son of Man will soon ap­pear;

His king­dom is at hand.

But ere that glo­ri­ous day can be

This Gos­pel of the king­dom we

Must preach in ev­ery land

Must preach in ev­ery land.

Oh

let us then His com­ing haste

Oh

let us end this aw­ful waste

Of souls that nev­er die.

A thou­sand mill­ions still are lost;

A Sav­ior’s blood has paid the cost

Oh

hear their dy­ing cry

Oh

hear their dy­ing cry.

They’re pass­ing

pass­ing

fast away

A hun­dred thou­sand souls a day

In Christ­less guilt and gloom.

O Church of Christ

what wilt thou say

When

in the aw­ful judg­ment day

They charge thee with their doom

They charge thee with their doom?