Category: Helpful Resources

“Missionary Gems” — A collection of short poems
Compiled from various sources — Gospel Trumpet Company

I have a calling high,
A charge to me is given,
To bear to men who die
The saving word from heaven.
O world and flesh, give way ye must !
I’m with the Gospel put in trust!

Above me is my God;
I hear His urgent voice:
He speaks of Jesus’ blood
And resurrection joys.
No time have I for care or lust —
I’m with the Gospel put in trust!

“Missionary Gems” — A collection of short poems
Compiled from various sources — Gospel Trumpet Company

O precious Lord, now cheer my heart,
As from my loved ones I must part;
I’ve left them all to follow thee,
To cross the deep and restless sea.

Help me forget my home so dear,
And wipe away my ev’ry tear;
For thou hast called me far away,
And thy sweet voice I did obey.

Oh, give me souls, my heart’s desire,
And grace to pass through trials of fire.
To thee, dear Lord, I’ll e’er be true,
And all thy will most gladly do.

When all my work on earth is o’er,
Then we shall meet to part no more,
And praise the Lord eternally
For blessings and for victory.

“Missionary Gems” — A collection of short poems
Compiled from various sources — Gospel Trumpet Company

I’m thinking tonight of the souls lost in sin,
Of numbers now going to hell;
The many who know not of God’s love for them,
So few the glad tidings to tell.

Then those who have slighted the dear Savior’s love,
Tonight they are lost in despair.
Soon others will follow, except they repent;
Alone they their burdens must bear.

“I’ve missed it at last!” Oh, how awful these words!
The saddest that mortal can speak;
And yet, Christian friends, there are thousands of souls
These words, in their anguish, repeat.

My brother and sister, with these facts to face,
How, then, can you dare idle be?
The harvest is great, but the laborers few;
Then say, “Here am I, Lord; send me.”

Think not of your riches, of home, and your friends,
In view of refusing to help;
O thou whom the Master designed for his work,
A burden for souls hast thou felt?

Then bid all farewell, the dear Savior obey,
An idler, no longer to be;
Grim death soon will hush the sad pleadings of those
Who daily are calling for thee.

“Missionary Gems” — A collection of short poems
Compiled from various sources — Gospel Trumpet Company
O valiant-hearted soldiers,
Of all our faithful band,
God calls no greater labors,
Alike on sea and land.

In vain he shall not summon;
Ready to die or live,
“Send me,” we answer gladly;
“Our all we freely give.”
CHORUS.
Then out, away, and onward
To darkest heathen lands
To take the world for Jesus;
Press on, ye valiant bands.
God-called and Spirit-burdened
For service everywhere,
In dark and distant countries,
In line for service there.

E’en life most freely given
To rescue men from death,
And crying, “Jesus only,”
Till life’s supremest breath.

No time for lamentation
Nor for the funeral tread;
Let those who dwell in darkness,
Dead souls, watch o’er their dead.

The Master calls thee; hasten
Whene’er ye hear his voice.
Oh! let not self or Satan,
But Jesus, guide your choice.

“Ten thousand sit in darkness,
Ten thousand stretch their hands,
Ten thousand cry in anguish,
‘Oh, come and save our lands !’

Hasten, ye soldiers blood-washed,
And called of God to go;
Hasten on wings of morning,
That all your Lord may know.”

This, this your mission, workers,
To ev’ry land and tongue;
Go, go proclaim the story,
E’en as your Lord hath done.

“Farewell,” cry as you hasten,
To home and ease and friends
Then forward, outward ever,
Till all life’s labor ends.

“Missionary Gems” — A collection of short poems
Compiled from various sources — Gospel Trumpet Company

There are heathen in the distance,
There are heathen at our doors,
Who have come a weary journey
From the far-off foreign shores.

O America, the chosen,
Where the Gospel is proclaimed!
Shall they stand in pagan darkness
While your lips a Christ have named?

Shall we pass them by unheeding
In the busy marts of life,
And no heart-throbs beat within us
To a better, nobler strife?

Shall the garments of his chosen
Guiltless of their life-blood be,
If their eyes are never pointed
To the Lamb of Calvary?

Oh those souls in prison fettered,
Bound by superstition’s chains!
Tell them of a Christ, a heaven,
Of a “rest” that there remains,

Lest he sometime whisper sadly,
When his glory we shall see,
“To the least of these ye went not,
So ye came not unto me.”

“Missionary Gems” — A collection of short poems
Compiled from various sources — Gospel Trumpet Company

So many idle, folded hands,
And the harvest-fields are white;
Low droop the heavy heads of wheat
That wait the reaper’s weary feet,
The sickle in his willing hands.
For the “harvest-fields are white.”

So many here that sit at ease
While beneath yon darker skies
The wretchedness and misery
Even angels well might see.
How can we dare to sit at ease
Beneath these golden skies?

So fleet, so few the moments be
For binding up the sheaves!
The Master calls; do not delay,
But haste some fruit to reap today;
For soon our only joy shall be
In bringing home the sheaves.

To the ends of the earth let the tidings sound
Till the lost have a chance to hear,
Till those who in sinful chains lie bound
Are free and their Maker revere.
To the ends of the earth let the heralds go,
For thus the commission reads;
With an anxious tear by all waters sow
Till the “good ground” is covered with seeds.
To the ends of the earth, leaving friends and home,
Oh, who will the sacrifice make.
And work with a zeal till the Lord shall come?
For perishing souls are at stake.
To the ends of the earth with a heart full of love,
Oh, work with tenderest care
Till the blessing of grace shall be sent from above,
That sinners salvation may share.
To the ends of the earth, for the fields are all white,
Go, ye reapers, and gather the grain;
Ye stewards of means, respond with delight,
For nothing your zeal should restrain.
To the ends of the earth let us hasten to start;
Our reward at the last will be great.
With loved ones at home decide you will part,
“Redeeming the time” ere too late.
To the ends of the earth lest the perishing die,
Lest their blood be required at our hands;
Lest our privilege to help them ere long shall pass by,
Bear the gospel in haste to all lands.
To the ends of the earth spread the tidings of peace,
Let the star of hope shine in the sky,
Bring the Gospel to those who are seeking release
Till they’re saved by the blood and “brought nigh.”

I remember some of the doors of opportunity God has opened for me,
Then I unknowingly reached out and closed them all rather selfishly.
Losing my chance to exalt the name of Jesus to some who needed to hear,
About a Savior that loves them and someday soon, He is going to appear.

At this point in my life I realize how important each opportunity can be,
In helping others to accept Jesus instead of facing a most tragic eternity.
Explaining God’s plan of salvation as He puts them within my reach,
Wherever I may be, either high on a mountain or down on a sandy beach.

The bible tells me that the harvest is ready however the laborers are few,
Then this is my signal that there is plenty of work out there for me to do.
Be ready to witness to others at any time wherever God may see fit to lead,
And then to keep each one in my prayers daily that has a spiritual need.

Now when God opens those doors of opportunity I intend to walk on through,
To be very faithful in witnessing for Him as I know He created me to do.
For there was a time someone else had an opportunity performing it well,
Whenever they witnessed to me leading me away from the gates of hell.