When the Lord re­calls the ban­ished,
Frees the cap­tives all at last,
Every sor­row will have van­ished
Like a dream when night is past;
Then shall all our hearts re­joice,
And with glad re­sound­ing voice
We shall praise the Lord who sought us,
For the free­dom He hath wrought us.

Lift Thy hand to aid us, Fa­ther,
Look on us who wide­ly roam,
And Thy scat­tered child­ren ga­ther
In their longed-for, pro­mised home;
Steep and wea­ry is the way,
Shorten Thou the sul­try day;
Faithful war­ri­ors hast Thou found us,
Let Thy peace for aye sur­round us.

In that peace we reap in glad­ness
What was sown in tear­ful show­ers:
There the fruit of all our sad­ness
Ripens—there the palm is ours;
There our God up­on His throne
Is our full re­ward alone;
They who all for God sur­ren­der
Bring their sheaves in heav’n­ly splen­dor.