Watchman, tell me, does the morning

Watchman, tell me, does the morningOf fair Zion's glory dawn?Have the signs that mark its comingYet upon thy pathway shone?Pilgrim, yes! arise, look round thee;Light is breaking in the skies;Gird thy bridal robes around thee,Morning dawns, arise! arise!

Watchman, see, the light is beamingBrighter still upon thy way;Signs through all the earth are gleaming,Omens of the coming dayWhen the Jubal trumpet, sounding,Shall awake from earth and seaAll the saints of God, now sleeping,Clad in immortality.

Watchman, hail the light ascendingOf the grand, Sabbatic year;All with voices loud proclaimingThat the kingdom now is near:Pilgrim, yes, I see just yonder,Canaan's glorious hights arise;Salem, too, appears in grandeur,Towering 'neath its sunlit skies.

Watchman, in the golden city,Seated on his jasper throne,Zion's King, arrayed in beauty,Reigns in peace from zone to zone:There on sunlit hills and mountains,Golden beams serenely glow;Purling streams and crystal fountains,On whose banks sweet flow'rets blow.

Watchman, see, the land is nearing,With its vernal fruits and flowers;On, just yonder,—O how cheering!Bloom forever Eden's bowers.Hark! the choral strains are ringing,Wafted on the balmy air,See the millions, hear them singing,Soon the pilgrim will be there.