Lo! The desert depths are stirrèd,
And the reeds of Jordan quiver;
At the Baptist’s herald word,
Shake the shores of that old river.

Nearer comes the Preacher’s cry,
Deeper sounds his voice and deeper,
Telling that the Christ is nigh,
In a tone to rouse the sleeper.

By their Maker’s coming feet
Moved, the earth, the air, the ocean
Joyously His advent greet,
With a strangely yearning motion.

Cleanse the heart—a highway strew
For the Godhead hither faring;
Cleanse the home—a dwelling, due
To the mighty Guest, preparing.

Jesu, Thou our solace art,
Thou our strength and our salvation;
Withered grass, from Thee apart,
Fades away man’s feeble nation.

Lift the lost, with hand of health,
Whom the plague is fast consuming;
Lift the veil—in all its wealth,
Lo! the beauteous world is blooming.

Thou, who comest man to free,
Son, be Thine all praise for ever;
Thine with Sire and Spirit be
Laud through ages ending never.