The American common-place book of poetry with occasional notes |
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The Restoration of Israel.—James Wallis Eastburn.
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 | The American common-place book of poetry |  |
The Restoration of Israel.—James Wallis Eastburn.
Mountains of Israel, rear on high
Your summits, crowned with verdure new,
And spread your branches to the sky,
Refulgent with celestial dew.
O'er Jordan's stream, of gentle flow,
And Judah's peaceful valleys, smile,
And far reflect the lovely glow
Where ocean's waves incessant toil.
Your summits, crowned with verdure new,
And spread your branches to the sky,
Refulgent with celestial dew.
O'er Jordan's stream, of gentle flow,
And Judah's peaceful valleys, smile,
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Where ocean's waves incessant toil.
See where the scattered tribes return;
Their slavery is burst at length,
And purer flames to Jesus burn,
And Zion girds on her new strength:
New cities bloom along the plain,
New temples to Jehovah rise,
The kindling voice of praise again
Pours its sweet anthems to the skies.
Their slavery is burst at length,
And purer flames to Jesus burn,
And Zion girds on her new strength:
New cities bloom along the plain,
New temples to Jehovah rise,
The kindling voice of praise again
Pours its sweet anthems to the skies.
The fruitful fields again are blest,
And yellow harvests smile around;
Sweet scenes of heavenly joy and rest,
Where peace and innocence are found.
The bloody sacrifice no more
Shall smoke upon the altars high,—
But ardent hearts, from hill to shore,
Send grateful incense to the sky!
And yellow harvests smile around;
Sweet scenes of heavenly joy and rest,
Where peace and innocence are found.
The bloody sacrifice no more
Shall smoke upon the altars high,—
But ardent hearts, from hill to shore,
Send grateful incense to the sky!
The jubilee of man is near,
When earth, as heaven, shall own His reign;
He comes to wipe the mourner's tear,
And cleanse the heart from sin and pain.
Praise him, ye tribes of Israel, praise
The king that ransomed you from wo:
Nations, the hymn of triumph raise,
And bid the song of rapture flow!
When earth, as heaven, shall own His reign;
He comes to wipe the mourner's tear,
And cleanse the heart from sin and pain.
Praise him, ye tribes of Israel, praise
The king that ransomed you from wo:
Nations, the hymn of triumph raise,
And bid the song of rapture flow!
| The American common-place book of poetry | |