I walked down the steaming jungle path
Mid exotic flowers and trees,
There were streams and gorgeous butterflies,
But my mind was not fixed on these.
My head and my feet were burning,
But my heart burned hotter with shame
As I saw the diseased and degraded
Who never had heard His name.
I thought of our stately churches
And their softly cushioned pews,
And I wept for the sin-damned millions
Who never had heard the News
Of the spotless Christ of Calvary
Who died their souls to save.
Unless there’s a change, that heathen mass
Will go Christless to the grave.
God, pity our empty fullness;
God, pity our barren tree;
God, pity our long-range blindness;
God, curse our lethargy!
Turn our much-used words into action,
Change ease into Spirit-born care,
Baptize us with Thy compassion
That puts feet under our prayer.