Classic Poem

Wake thee, O Zion, thy mourning is ended;
God — thine own God — hath regarded thy prayer:
Wake thee, and hail him, in glory descended,
Thy darkness to scatter — thy wastes to repair.

Wake thee, O Zion, his spirit of power
To newness of life is awaking the dead;
Array thee in beauty, and greet the glad hour
That brings thee salvation, through Jesus who bled.

Savior, we gladly with voices resounding
Loud as the thunder, our chorus would swell;
Till from rock, wood and mountain its echoes rebounding,
To all the wide world of salvation shall tell.