Hills of the
Hills of the North, rejoice;
river and mountain spring,
hark to the Advent voice;
valley and lowland, sing:
though absent long, your Lord is nigh;
He judgment brings and victory.
Isles of the southern seas,
deep in your coral caves,
pent be each warring breeze,
lulled be your restless waves:
He comes to reign with boundless sway,
and makes your wastes his great highway.
Lands of the East, awake!
Soon shall your sons be free;
the sleep of ages break
and rise to liberty:
on your far hills, long cold and grey,
has dawned the everlasting day.
Shores of the utmost West,
ye that have waited long,
break forth to swelling song;
high raise the note that Jesus died,
yet lives and reigns, the Crucified!
Shout, while ye journey home,
songs be in every mouth;
Lo! from the North we come,
from East, and West, and South.
City of God, the bond are free;
we come to live and reign in thee.
Oakley, 1832 - 1865
Tune: Little Cornard, by Martin Shaw
Click here for a link to a recording by