Hasten, Lord, the glo­ri­ous time
When, be­neath Messiah’s sway,
Every na­tion, ev­ery clime,
Shall the Gos­pel call ob­ey.
Mightiest kings His pow­er shall own,
Heathen tribes His name adore;
Satan and his host o’er­thrown,
Bound in chains, shall hurt no more.

As when soft and gen­tle show­ers
Fall upon the thirs­ty plain,
Springing grass and bloom­ing flow­ers,
Clothe the wil­der­ness again;
So Thy Spir­it shall des­cend,
Softening ev­ery sto­ny heart,
And its sweet­est in­flu­ence lend,
All that’s love­ly to impart.

Then shall wars and tu­mults cease,
Then be ban­ished grief and pain,
Righteousness and joy and peace,
Undisturbed shall ever reign.
Bless we, then, our gra­cious Lord,
Ever praise His glo­ri­ous name;
All His migh­ty acts re­cord;
All His won­drous love pro­claim.