Arise! arise, with joy survey
The glory of the latter day;
Already is the dawn begun,
Which marks at hand a rising sun,
Which marks at hand a rising sun.
"Behold the way!" ye heralds, cry;
Spare not, but lift your voices high;
Convey the sound from pole to pole,
"Glad tidings" to the captive soul,
"Glad tidings" to the captive soul.
"Behold the way!" to Zion's hill:
Where Israel's God delights to dwell!
He fixes there His lofty throne,
And calls the sacred place His own,
And calls the sacred place His own.
The north gives up-the south no more
Keeps back her consecrated store;
From east to west the message runs,
And either India yields her sons,
And either India yields her sons.
