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CCVII

Messiah! at Thy glad approach

The howling wilds are still;

Thy praises fill the lonely waste,

And breathe from every hill.

168

The hidden fountains, at Thy call,

Their sacred stores unlock;

Loud in the desert sudden streams

Burst living from the rock.

The incense of the Spring ascends

Upon the morning gale;

Red o'er the hill the roses bloom,

The lilies in the vale.

The kingdom of Messiah come,

Appointed times disclose;

And fairer in Emmanuel's land

The new Creation glows:--

Renew'd, the earth a robe of light,

A robe of beauty wears;

And in new Heavens a brighter Sun

Leads on the promised years.

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