O’er the gloomy hills of darkness,

Look, my soul, be still and gaze;

All the promises do travail

With a glorious day of grace:

Blessed jubilee,

Let thy glorious morning dawn.

2 Let the Indian, let the negro,

Let the rude barbarian see,

That divine and glorious conquest

Once obtained on Calvary:

Let the gospel

Loud resound from pole to pole.

3 Kingdoms wide that sit in darkness,

Grant them, Lord, the glorious light;

And from eastern coast to western,

May the morning chase the night!

And redemption,

Freely purchased, win the day.

4 Fly abroad, thou mighty gospel!

Win and conquer! never cease!

May thy lasting wide dominion

Multiply and still increase!

Sway thy scepter,

Saviour, all the world around.