Daughter of Zion, awake from thy sadness;

Awake, for thy foes shall oppress thee no more:

Bright o’er the hills dawns the day-star of gladness,

Arise, for the night of thy sorrow is o’er.

2 Strong were thy foes, but the arm that subdued them,

And scattered their legions, was mightier far;

They fled, like the chaff, from the scourge that pursued them,

Vain were their steeds and their chariots of war.

3 Daughter of Zion, the power that hath saved thee,

Extolled with the harp and the timbrel should be;

Shout! for the foe is destroyed that enslaved thee,

Th’ oppressor is vanquished, and Zion is free.