Now let our faith with joy sur­vey
The glo­ries of the lat­ter day;
Its dawn al­rea­dy seems be­gun,
Sure ear­nest of the ris­ing sun.

The friends of truth as­sem­bled stand,
A chos­en, con­se­crat­ed band,
The em­blem of the cross dis­play,
And cry aloud, Be­hold the way!

Behold the way to Zi­on’s hill,
Where Is­ra­el’s God de­lights to dwell;
He fix­es there His lof­ty throne,
And calls the sac­red place His own.

Behold the way! ye her­alds! cry;
Spare not, but lift your voic­es high;
Convey the sound from shore to shore,
And bid the cap­tive sigh no more.

Auspicious dawn! thy ris­ing ray
With joy we view, and hail the day;
Thou Sun! arise, su­preme­ly bright,
And fill the world with pur­est light.