When Jordan hushed his waters still,
And silence slept on Zion’s hill;
When Salem’s shepherds through the night
Watched o’er their flocks by starry light;
Hark! from the midnight hills around,
A voice, of more than mortal sound,
In distant hallelujahs stole,
Wild murmuring o’er the raptured soul.
Then swift to every startled eye,
New streams of glory gild the sky;
Heaven bursts her azure gates, to pour
Her spirits to the midnight hour.
On wheels of light, on wings of flame,
The glorious hosts to Zion came;
High Heaven with songs of triumph rung,
While thus they smote their harps and sung:
O Zion! lift thy raptured eye,
The long expected hour is nigh;
The joy of nature rise again,
The Prince of Salem comes to reign!
See Mercy, from her golden urn,
Pours a rich stream to those that mourn;
Behold, she binds with tender care,
The bleeding bosom of despair.
He comes to cheer the trembling heart,
Bids Satan and his host depart;
Again the day-star gilds the gloom,
Again the bowers of Eden bloom!