(From Christmas Hymn)

 

WHEN Jordan hushed his waters still,

And silence slept on Zion’s hill;

When Salem’s shepherds through the night

Watched o’er their flocks by starry light,—

 

Hark! from the midnight hills around,

A voice, of more than mortal sound,

In distant hallelujahs stole,

Wild murmuring o’er the raptured soul.

 

Then swift to every startled eye,

New streams of glory gild the sky;

Heaven bursts her azure gates, to pour

Her spirits to the midnight hour.

 

On wheels of light, on wings of flame,

The glorious hosts to Zion came;

High heaven with songs of triumph rung,

While thus they smote their harps and sung:

 

“O Zion! lift thy raptured eye:

The long-expected hour is nigh;

The joys of nature rise again;

The Prince of Salem comes to reign.

 

See Mercy, from her golden urn,

Pours a rich stream to them that mourn;

Behold, she binds, with tender care,

The bleeding bosom of Despair.

 

He comes to cheer the trembling heart,

Bids Satan and his host depart;

Again the day-star gilds the gloom,

Again the bowers of Eden bloom.

 

O Zion! lift thy raptured eye:

The long-expected hour is nigh;

The joys of nature rise again;

The Prince of Salem comes to reign.”

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