Comfort, Comfort Ye My People

Comfort

com­fort ye My peo­ple

Speak ye peace

thus sa­ith our God;

Comfort those who sit in dark­ness

Mourning ’neath their sor­row’s load;

Speak ye to Je­ru­sa­lem

Of the peace that waits for them;

Tell her that her sins I cov­er

And her war­fare now is ov­er.

For the her­ald’s voice is cry­ing

In the des­ert far and near

Bidding all men to re­pent­ance

Since the king­dom now is here.

O that warn­ing cry ob­ey!

Now pre­pare for God a way!

Let the val­leys rise to meet Him

And the hills bow down to greet Him.

Yea

her sins our God will par­don

Blotting out each dark mis­deed;

All that well de­served His an­ger

He will no more see nor heed.

She has suf­fered ma­ny a day

Now her griefs have passed away

God will change her pin­ing sad­ness

Into ev­er spring­ing glad­ness.

Make ye straight what long was crook­ed

Make the rough­er places plain:

Let your hearts be true and hum­ble

As be­fits His ho­ly reign

For the glo­ry of the Lord

Now o’er the earth is shed abroad

And all flesh shall see the to­ken

That His Word is nev­er brok­en.