How love­ly on the mount­ain,
The feet of those who bring
Glad tid­ings of sal­va­tion,
Thro’ Zion’s glo­ri­ous king;
Behold, of God an­oint­ed,
He comes with pow’r and might,
O re­gions veiled in dark­ness,
To pour ce­les­ti­al light.

Lift up thy head, O cap­tive,
And let thy mourn­ings cease;
The hand of mer­cy wav­eth
The ol­ive branch of peace.
Lift up thy head, O cap­tive,
For thou, in Christ, shalt find,
A heal­ing balm of com­fort,
The brok­en heart to bind.

O ev­ery one that thirst­eth
The crys­tal wa­ter see;
To all who will rec­eive it,
The fount of life is free.
Let ev­ery one who hear­eth
Obey the gra­cious call;
Come, with­out price, or mo­ney,
The Lord has paid for all.