Awake, then, to your duty,
    O church of Christ, awake! 
    Behold the beauty of their feet
    Who the glad tidings take! 
    Reach out and ring the bells of heaven;
    Blest be the hands that give
    The truth, that all who listen
    May hope and joy and live! 
    Ah, ’tis a wondrous story! 
    Good news to all the world! 
    The gospel means glad tidings
    Wherever ’tis unfurled.

    Great God, impart thy Spirit
    That all who love their Lord
    May see in life a flitting hour
    To obey and speak his word.

THE DESERT SPRING

    “Oh, no, my lord, she cannot stay;
    Cast out this bond maid with her mocking child,
    For they cannot be heirs with thine and mine.” 
    Abraham was sad, for he had prayed, “O God,
    That Ishmael may dwell within thy sight!”
    And now the message came to him, “Fear not! 
    In all that Sarah says list to her voice. 
    In Isaac shall thy seed be called.  Also
    I’ll make of Hagar’s son a nation great,
    Because he sprang from thee.”

          Then Abraham rose
    At early dawn, and lading Egypt’s child
    With water and with bread, sent her grief-worn
    With Ishmael to wander lone within
    Beersheba’s wilderness.  While yet the air
    Was cool, and nature locked in the embrace
    Of morn, likely the child was blithe and gay,
    Unheeding the sad face and drooping form
    Of her who doubtless turned from childhood’s tents
    In tears of woe.

          Thrilled with his Arab blood
    He raced along; and thus to fancy’s ear
    He prattled on:  “O mother, do not weep! 
    The Princess Sarah cannot chide us now. 
    We’re free!  I love the wilderness!  I love
    The earth and sky!  Look at those birds,
    Far as the fleecy clouds!  And here
    Are flowers with which to wreathe my bow. 
    With it I’ll bring thee deer and fowl to dress,
    When by and by we reach a babbling stream
    Where we may safely dwell.”

          On, still on,
    Through arid plains, with blistering feet,
    Beneath a burning sky, they toil along. 
    The lad no longer talks of birds and flowers,
    But begs for water—­water just to cool
    His parching throat; and likely ’twas that when
    Noon’s shadows mirrored the encircling hills,
    He saw the empty flask, and must at last
    Have fainted on the scorching sand.

          We read
    That Hagar cast him ’neath a shrub, and then,
    Withdrawing quite a space, she prayed, “O God,
    Let me not see his death!” and so sank down
    Upon the ground to watch him where he lay,
    And wept such tears as touched the world on high
    With sympathy divine.  God heard the lad,
    And from his radiant home an angel spake: