The morn­ing light is break­ing,
The dark­ness dis­ap­pears;
The sons of earth are wak­ing,
To pe­ni­ten­tial tears;
Each breeze that sweeps the ocean
Brings tid­ings from afar
Of na­tions in com­mo­tion,
Prepared for Zi­on’s war.

Rich dews of grace come o’er us,
In ma­ny a gen­tle show­er,
And bright­er scenes be­fore us,
Are op­en­ing ev­ery hour;
Each cry to Hea­ven go­ing,
Abundant an­swers brings,
And heav’n­ly winds are blow­ing,
With peace up­on their wings.

See hea­then na­tions bend­ing
Before the God we love,
And thou­sand hearts as­cend­ing
In gra­ti­tude above:
While sin­ners, now con­fess­ing,
The Gos­pel call ob­ey,
And seek the Sav­ior’s bless­ing,
A na­tion in a day.

Blest river of sal­va­tion,
Pursue thy on­ward way;
Flow thou to ev­ery na­tion,
Nor in thy rich­es stay:
Stay not till all the lowly
Triumphant reach their home;
Stay not till all the holy
Proclaim, The Lord is come.