|Wake, harp of Zion, wake again,|
Upon Thine ancient hill,
On Jordan's long deserted plain,
By Kedron's lowly rill.
The hymn shall yet in Zion swell
that sounds Messiah's praise,
And Thy loved name, Immanuel,
As told in ancient days.
For Israel yet shall own her King,
For he salvation waits,
And hill and dale shall sweetly sing
With praise in all her gates.
Hasten, oh Lord, these promised days
When Israel shall rejoice;
And Jew and Gentile join in praise,
With one united voice.