The Morning Star

The night is wearing fast away,A streak of light is dawning,Sweet harbinger of that bright day,The fair Millennial morning.Gloomy and dark the night has been,And long the way, and dreary;And sad the weeping saints are seen,And faint, and worn and weary.

Ye mourning pilgrims, cease your tears,And hush each sigh of sorrow;The light of that bright morn appears,—The long sabbatic morrow.Lift up your heads—behold from farA flood of splendor streaming!It is the bright and Morning-Star,In living lustre beaming!

And see that star-like host aroundOf angel bands, attending;Hark! hark! the trumpet's glad'ning sound,'Mid shouts triumphant blending.He comes, the Bridegroom promised long—Go forth with joy to meet him;And raise the new and nuptial song,In cheerful strains to greet him.

Adorn thyself, the feast prepare,While bridal strains are swelling;He comes, with thee all joys to share,And make this earth his dwelling.Lift up your heads—behold from farA flood of splendor streaming!It is the bright and Morning-Star,In living lustre beaming!