Challenge

If I can live without my Lord,

Or feed my soul without His Word;

IF I can walk from day to day

Without His presence on my way;

IF I can face the vast unknown

And have no fear to walk alone,

Without a Lord who loves and cares,

Who honors faith, and answers prayers;

If I can face the hour of death

And draw in peace my parting breath,

My substitute for heavenly dress

A robe of my own righteousness,

Then I can ask the heathen drear

To live, and die–and never hear.

Did Jesus die for me alone?

Is not the African His own?

Does He not love the yellow man,

And long to claim the Indian?

There is no soul upon this earth

HE did not feel His life was worth.

But how shall they, across the sea,

Believe He died upon the tree

In love to rescue them from hell,

Unless someone shall go and tell

The wondrous news of life and love:

A Saviour waits in heaven above

To welcome those He died to free,

To live with Him eternally?

My Lord has laid His wounded hand

Upon my life. At His command

The charms of earth have fled away.

“Whom shall I send?” I hear Him say.

What other answer can there be?

“Here am I, Lord, send me–send me!”

By Barbara C. Ryberg