Behold the ex­pect­ed time draw near,
The shades dis­perse, the dawn ap­pear;
Behold the wil­der­ness as­sume
The beau­te­ous tints of Ed­en’s bloom.

Events, with pro­phe­cies, con­spire
To raise our faith, our zeal to fire:
The rip­en­ing fields, al­rea­dy white,
Present a har­vest to our sight.

The un­taught hea­then waits to know
The joy the Gos­pel will be­stow;
The ex­iled slave waits to re­ceive
The free­dom Je­sus has to give.

Come let us, with a grate­ful heart,
In the blest la­bor share a part,
Our praye­rs and of­fer­ings glad­ly bring
To aid the tri­umphs of our king.

Let us imp­rove the hea­ven­ly gale,
Spread to each breeze our hoist­ed sail,
Till north and south, and west and east,
Shall share the bless­èd Gos­pel feast.

Invite the globe to come and prove
A Sav­ior’s con­des­cend­ing love,
And hum­bly fall be­fore His feet,
Assured they shall ac­cep­tance meet.

Our hearts ex­ult in songs of praise,
That we have seen these lat­ter days,
When our Re­deem­er shall be known
Where Sa­tan long hath held his throne.

Where’er God’s hand hath spread the skies,
Sweet in­cense to His name shall rise;
And Tyre, and Egypt, Greek and Jew,
By so­ve­reign grace be formed anew.