Messiah! at Thy glad approach
The howling winds are still;
Thy praises fill the lonely waste,
And breathe from every hill.
The incense of the spring ascends
Upon the morning gale;
Red o’er the hill the roses bloom,
The lilies in the vale.
Renewed, the earth a robe of light,
A robe of beauty wears;
And in new heav’ns a brighter Sun
Leads on the promised years.
Let Israel to the Prince of Peace
The loud hosanna sing;
With hallelujahs, and with hymns,
O Zion, hail thy king.