CCVII Messiah! at Thy glad approach
The howling wilds are still;
Thy praises fill the lonely waste,
And breathe from every hill.
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.