|Joy cometh! Oh! that it were come|
To wake the song that now is dumb;
To rouse the mourner, soothe who weep
And bring again the dead who sleep!
Joy cometh! sighing, sorrowing one
Joy cometh! with the rising sun;
Joy holy, blessed, perfect, pure,
Joy ever flowing, ever sure!
Joy cometh with the coming day!
Joy danceth on the morning's way!
Joy, like a flood of light, shall roll,
And bathe the world from pole to pole!
Joy cometh! for the Lord doth come!
To wake the song that now is dumb!
All righteous tongues shall find employ
In songs of everlasting joy.