Ye is­lands of the north­ern sea,
Rejoice, the Sav­ior reigns;
His word like fire pre­pares His way,
And mount­ains melt to plains.

His pre­sence sinks the proud­est hills,
And makes the val­leys rise;
The hum­ble soul en­joys His smiles,
The haugh­ty sin­ner dies.

The heav’ns His right­ful pow­er pro­claim;
The id­ol-gods around
Fill their own wor­ship­ers with shame,
And tot­ter to the ground.

Adoring an­gels at His birth
Make the Re­deem­er known:
Thus shall He come to judge the earth,
And an­gels guard His throne.

His foes shall trem­ble at His sight,
And hills and seas re­tire;
His child­ren take their un­known flight,
And leave the world in fire.

The seeds of joy and glo­ry sown
For saints in dark­ness here,
Shall rise and spring in worlds un­known,
And a rich har­vest bear.