Arise and shine, O Zi­on fair,
Behold, thy light is come!
Thy glo­ri­ous con­quer­ing king is near
To take His ex­iles home.
The trum­pet sound­ing through the sky,
To set poor cap­tives free;
The day of won­der now is nigh:
The day of Ju­bi­lee.

Ye he­ralds, blow your trum­pets loud,
The earth must know her doom;
Go spread the news from pole to pole,
Behold, the Judge is come;
Blow out the sun, burn up the earth!
Consume the roll­ing flood;
While ev­ery star shall dis­ap­pear,
Go turn the moon to blood.

Arise, ye na­tions un­der ground,
Before the Judge ap­pear;
All tongues and lang­uag­es shall come,
Their fi­nal doom to hear!
King Je­sus on His dazz­ling throne,
Ten thou­sand an­gels round;
And Ga­bri­el with a sil­ver trump,
Echoes the aw­ful sound!

The glo­ri­ous news of Gos­pel grace
To sin­ners now is o’er;
The trump in Zi­on now is still,
And to be heard no more!
The watch­men all have left their walls
And with their flocks above,
On Ca­naan’s peace­ful shore they sing,
And shout re­deem­ing love.

Come, all ye pil­grims in the Lord,
Whose hearts are joined in one,
Hold up your hands with cour­age bold,
Your race is al­most run.
Above the clouds the Sav­ior sits,
And smil­ing, bids you come;
Angels will guide your hap­py souls
To your eter­nal home.

Behold a pil­grim as he dies,
With glo­ry in his view,
To Hea­ven he lifts his long­ing eyes,
And bids the world adieu;
While friends are weep­ing all around,
And loth to let him go,
He shouts with his ex­pir­ing breath,
And leaves them all be­low.

O! Chris­tians, are you rea­dy now,
To cross that nar­row flood,
On Ca­naan’s hap­py shore be­hold,
And see your smil­ing God?
The dazz­ling charm of that bright world,
Attracts my soul above;
My tongue shall shout re­deem­ing grace,
When per­fected in love.

Go on, my breth­ren in the Lord,
I’m bound to meet you there;
Although we tread en­chant­ed ground,
Be bold and ne­ver fear.
Fight on, fight on, ye con­quer­ing souls,
The land, it is in view;
And when I gain fair Ca­naan’s shore,
I hope to meet with you.