In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple.
Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly.
And one cried unto another, and said, Holy, holy, holy, is the LORD of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.
And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house was filled with smoke.
Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts.
Then flew one of the seraphims unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the altar:
And he laid it upon my mouth, and said, Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged.
Also I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.
Isaiah 6:1-8
Welcome to Hymn of the Day! This hymn is new to me, and so beautiful! It reminds me how delighted people look when they first hear, understand, and receive the gospel. Surely many today still long for someone to "deliver their land from error's chain."
Dear God, please send forth laborers into Your harvest.
From Greenland's Icy Mountains | Reginald Heber
1
From Greenland’s icy mountains, From India’s coral strand, Where Afric’s sunny fountains Roll down their golden sand; From many an ancient river, From many a palmy plain, They call us to deliver Their land from error’s chain.
2
What though the spicy breezes Blow soft on Ceylon’s isle; Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile; In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown; The heathen, in his blindness, Bows down to wood and stone.
3
Can we, whose souls are lighted With wisdom from on high; Can we to men benighted The lamp of life deny? Salvation! O salvation! The joyful sound proclaim, Till each remotest nation Has learned Messiah’s name.
4
Waft, waft, ye winds, His story; And you, ye waters, roll, Till, like a sea of glory, It spreads from pole to pole; Till o’er our ransomed nature, The Lamb for sinners slain, Redeemer, King, Creator, In bliss returns to reign.
Here's the tune: