What if your own were straying
   Fainting with famine pain,
And you should know
   Where golden grow
Rich fruit and ripened grain,
   Would you hear their wail
As a thrice-told tale
   And turn to your feast again?

What if your own were thirsting
   And never a drop could gain,
And you could tell
   Where a sparkling well         
Poured forth with abundant rain;
   Would you turn aside
While they suffered and died
   And leave them to their pain?

What if your own were darkened
  Without one cheering ray,
And you could show
   Where radiant glow
The pure sweet light of day;
   Would you leave them there
In their dark despair
   And sing on your sun-lit way?

What if your own were imprisoned
   Faroff in a hostile land,
And the only key
   To set them free
Was held in your command;
   Would you breathe free air
While they stifled there
   And wait and hold your hand?

Yet, what else are you doing,
   Dear ones by Christ made free
If you do not tell
   What you know so well
To those across the sea
   Who have never heard
One tender word
  Of the Lamb of Calvary?