Classic Poem

He is coming; and the tidings
Are rolling wide and far;
As light flows out in gladness,
From yon fair morning-star.

He is coming; and the tidings
Sweep through the willing air,
With hope that ends for ever
Time's ages of despair.

Old earth from dreams and slumber
Wakes up and says, Amen;
Land and ocean bid him welcome,
Flood and forest join the strain.

He is coming; and the mountains
Of Judea ring again;
Jerusalem awakens,
And shouts her glad Amen.

He is coming; wastes of Horeb,
Awaken and rejoice!
Hills of Moab, cliffs of Edom,
Lift the long silent voice!

He is coming, sea of Sodom,
To heal thy leprous brine,
To give back palm and myrtle,
The olive and the vine.

He is coming, blighted Carmel,
To restore thy olive bowers.
He is coming, faded Sharon,
To give thee back thy flowers.

Sons of Gentile-trodden Judah,
Awake, behold, he comes!
Landless and kingless exiles,
Re-seek your long-lost homes.

Back to your ancient valleys
Which your fathers loved so well,
In their now crumbled cities
Let their children's children dwell.

Drink the last drop of wormwood
From your nation's bitter cup;
The bitterest, but the latest,
Make haste and drink it up.

For he thy true Messiah,
Thine own anointed King,
He comes, in love and glory,
Thy endless joy to bring.

Yes, he thy King is coming
To end thy woes and wrongs,
To give thee joy for mourning,
To turn thy sighs to songs;

To dry the tears of ages,
To give thee, as of old,
The diadem of beauty,
The crown of purest gold;

To lift thee from thy sadness,
To set thee on the throne,
Messiah's chosen nation,
His best-beloved one.

The stain and dust of exile
To wipe from thy weary feet;
With songs of glorious triumph
Thy glad return to greet.