Brother calls to brother

From Oremus Hymnal

Brother calls to brother
o’er the tossing main,
Britons, far from Britain,
turn to her again:
from the tangled forests,
from the lonely lands,
from the smiling cornfields,
brothers stretch their hands.

For the font of cleansing,
for the house of prayer,
for the praise and worship,
which the faithful share,
for the holy table
spread as Christ commands,
for these priceless blessings
brothers stretch their hands.

To the dear old homeland,
still the loved and best,
to the friends far distant,
privileged and blest,
to the town or village,
where the old church stands,
where their heart still lingers,
brothers stretch their hands.

As we look and listen,
draws another nigh:
‘tis the voice of Jesus
crying in their cry,
his dear feet are standing
on those far-off strands,
with their hands of pleading
stretch the piercèd hands.

For those souls so needy,
precious, Lord, to thee,
send we prayers and offerings
far across the sea,
reaching thus our brothers
in the distant lands,
we, within the homeland,
clasp the outstretched hands.