All Hail, Mysterious King!

All hail

mys­ter­ious King!

Hail

Da­vid’s an­cient root!

Thou right­eous Branch

Which thence did spring

To give the na­tions fruit.

Our wea­ry souls shall rest

Beneath Thy grate­ful shade;

Our thirst­ing lips

Salvation taste;

Our faint­ing hearts are glad.

Fair Morn­ing-Star

arise

With liv­ing glo­ries bright

And pour on these

Awakening eyes

A flood of sac­red light.

The hor­rid gloom is fled

Pierced by Thy beau­te­ous ray;

Shine

and our wan­d’ring

Footsteps lead

To ev­er­last­ing day.