Yet say not, Ju­dah’s hope is fled,
Her high and ho­ly trust—
That she hath laid her mourn­ing head
For ev­er in the dust.

Oh! say not that her sun went down,
Quenched in her judg­ment night,
In deep­est dark­ness of its frown,
To rise no more in light.

Say ra­ther—for the Lord hath said,
And she shall hear the sound—
“O cap­tive daugh­ter! lift thine head
In beau­ty from the ground.

“Arise, and take thy so­lemn vows;
Thy re­gal robe pre­pare;
And like Mes­si­ah’s brid­al spouse,
Thy crown of glo­ry wear.

Bid Ke­dar’s wil­der­ness re­joice,
The mount­ains round thee sing;
Jerusalem, lift up thy voice
Before the Lord, the King.

Jerusalem, and mayst thou yet
Look up with­out des­pair?
And turn to mourn­ful Ol­iv­et,
And hail thy So­ver­eign there?

Will He for­give the guil­ty stain
That cursed thy wea­ry land;
His tear up­on thy wi­ther­ing plain,
His blood up­on thy hand?

Yes—fear not, Ju­dah, even now
Thy name is on His heart;
The ev­er­last­ing hills may bow,
The mount­ains may de­part;

But Zi­on’s Lord shall ne’er for­get
The coun­sels of His will;
And His eter­nal love is set
On Zi­on’s daugh­ter still.

Moriah heard Je­ho­vah swear
To Ab­ra­ham and his seed!
Moriah heard Mes­si­ah’s pray­er
For Ab­ra­ham’s child­ren plead.

And Ju­dah’s ran­somed tribes shall see
The Migh­ty One again;
And bow to Him the sup­pl­iant knee,
And bless His gen­tle reign.

The watch­ful na­tions wait around
To mark her ga­ther­ing pow­er;
The length­ened sha­dows on the ground
Presage the com­ing hour.

’Tis burst­ing through her twi­light doom
Of min­gled day and night;
Her glo­ry kin­dles in the gloom—
At ev­en­ing time ’tis light!

Sing, Gen­tile earth, for Ju­dah sing,
The Lord hath loosed her bands;
Creation! shout for Zi­on’s king,
And clap thy joy­ful hands!