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18

II

8,7,8,3

Hail the morn! Let praises cheerful

Scatter night and brooding fear;

Wipe the eyes with sorrow tearful,--

Christ is here.

Ah, the doubting, faintly hoping

As the promised time drew near,

In the darkness blindly groping;--

Christ is here.

Come, O Christ! our souls with gladness

Greet Thine Advent with a cheer--

To a world that scorns its sadness;--

Christ is here.

Thou, the Father's love revealing,

Now to loveless men appear

With Thy gifts of grace and healing;--

Christ is here.

Hope is ours, and hope is bringing

To our sky a noontide clear;

Pardon, peace, and joy are singing,

Christ is here.

Life is ours, and life undying

Thrills the soul when Thou art near.

Up, my heart! enough of sighing,

Christ is here.

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