Arise! Arise, with Joy Survey

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 ev­en In­dia yields her sons

And ev­en In­dia yields her sons.