What if your own were starving, Fainting with famine, pain; And you should know where golden grow, Rich fruits and ripened grain; Would you hear their wail As a thrice-told tale, And turn to your feast again? Refrain They are Christ’s own, they are your own, Soon will their hopes be flown, Rescue them ere they’re gone. What if your own were thirsting, And never a drop would gain, And you could tell where a sparkling well Poured forth melodious rain; Would you turn aside While they gasped and died, And leave them to their pain? Refrain What if your own were darkened, Without one cheering ray, And you alone could show where shone The pure, sweet light of day; Would you leave them there In their dark despair, And sing on your sunlit way? Refrain What if your own were wand’ring Far in a trackless maze, And you could show them where to go Along your pleasant ways? Would your heart be light, Till the pathway right Was plain before their gaze? Refrain What if your own were prisoned, Far in a hostile land, And the only key to set them free, Was held at your command; Would you breathe free air While they stifled there, And wait and fold your hands? Refrain Yet, what else are we doing, Dear ones, by Christ made free, If we will not tell what we know so well To those across the sea, Who have never heard One tender word Of the Lamb of Calvary? Refrain They are not our own, you answer? They are neither kith nor kin. They are God’s own: His love alone Can save them from their sin; They are Christ’s own: He left His throne And died, their souls to win. Refrain