Parting Hymn of the Missionaries to Burmah

Native land! in summer smiling,Hill and valley, grove and stream,Home! whose nameless charms beguilingPeaceful lull'd our infant dream,Haunts! through which our childhood hasted,Where the earliest wild-flowers grew,Church! where God's free grace we tasted,Gems of memory's wealth,—adieu!

Mother! who hast watched our pillowIn thy tender, sleepless love,Lo, we dare the crested billow,Mother! put thy trust above!Father! from thy guidance turningO'er the deep our way we take,Keep the prayerful incense burningOn thine altar, for our sake.

Brothers! Sisters! more than everSeem our clinging heart-strings twin'd,As that hallow'd bond we severWhich the hand of Nature join'd.But the cry of pagan anguishThro' our inmost hearts doth sound,Countless souls in misery languish,We would haste to heal their wound.

Burmah! we would soothe thy weeping,Take us to thy sultry breast,Where thy sainted dust is sleeping,Let us share a kindred rest.Friends! our span of life is fleeting,Hark! the harps of angels swell,Think of that eternal meeting,Where no voice shall say farewell.