For Sion’s Sake I Will Not Cease

For Si­on’s sake I will not cease

In ago­ny of pray­er to cry

No

nev­er will I hold my peace

Till God pro­claim sal­va­tion nigh:

Worthy in her great Sav­ior’s worth

’Till Si­on doth il­lus­tri­ous shine

And as a burn­ing lamp goes forth

The blaze of right­eous­ness di­vine.

Thy right­eous­ness the world shall see

The Gen­tiles on thy beau­ty gaze

And all the kings of earth agree

In won­der­ing at thy glo­ri­ous grace.

Thy glo­ri­ous grace what tongue can tell?

The Lord shall a new name im­part

Th’unutterable name re­veal

And write it on His peo­ple’s heart.

Sion

for thee Thy God shall care

And claim thee as His just re­ward

Thee for His crown of glo­ry wear

The roy­al dia­dem of thy Lord.

Outcast of God and man no more

No more for­sak­en and for­lorn

Thy de­so­late es­tate is o’er

For God shall com­fort all that mourn.

The wi­dowed Church shall mar­ried be

And soon a nu­mer­ous off­spring bear:

Thy ev­ery son shall com­fort thee

And cher­ish with a hus­band’s care.

Thy du­te­ous sons to thee shall cleave

The bar­ren wo­man that keeps house

Nor ev­er more the bo­som leave

Of their dear mo­ther and their spouse.

The Lord Him­self thy hus­band is

He bought

and claims thee for His own;

Thy God de­lights to call thee His

Flesh of His flesh

bone of His bone.

The joy that swells a bride­groom’s breast

When glo­ry­ing o’er his long-sought bride

Shall swell Thy God

of thee pos­sessed

Of thee

for whom He lived and died.

Prophets to thee thy Lord hath raised

O ho­ly ci­ty of our God

Hath on thy walls His watch­men placed

And with a trum­pet-voice en­dued.

They cry

and nev­er hold their peace

His pro­mise day and night they plead

Till God from all thy sins re­lease

And make thee like thy glo­ri­ous Head.

Call on Him now

ye watch­men

call

Cry

ye re­mem­branc­ers di­vine

Give Him no rest

who died for all

Till in all His pure wor­ship join:

Till God ap­pear

the faith­ful God

And make Je­ru­sa­lem a praise

And spread thro’ all the earth abroad

And ’stab­lish her with per­fect grace.

The Lord by His right hand hath sworn

The arm of His al­migh­ty pow­er

No more shalt thou to sin re­turn

Thy ene­my no more de­vour.

Satan

the world

and sin too long

Have robbed the child­ren of their bread

Poor la­bor­ing souls

they suf­fered wrong

Nor saw their le­gal toil suc­ceed.

They sowed the ground

and did not reap

Planted

and not drink the wine:

But I will com­fort all that weep

And fill the poor with food di­vine.

No more shall strange de­sires con­sume

Their ho­ly

pure

and con­stant joy

The wast­er pride no more shall come

Their gifts and graces to de­stroy.

And sure the faith­ful see at last

The la­bor of their hands shall eat

Shall praise the Lord

and more than taste

The heav’n­ly ev­er­last­ing meat.

They all shall sit be­neath the vine

In calm in­viol­able peace

And drink with­in My courts the wine

My courts of pe­rfect ho­li­ness.

Go thro’ the gates (’tis God com­mands);

Workers with God

the charge ob­ey

Remove what­e’er His work with­stands

Prepare

pre­pare His peo­ple’s way.

Their ev­en course let no­thing stop

Cast up the way

the stones re­move

The high and ho­ly way cast up

The Gos­pel way of per­fect love.

Lift up for all man­kind to see

The stand­ard of their dy­ing God

And point them to the shame­ful tree

The cross all stained with hal­lowed blood.

The Lord hath glo­ri­fied His grace

Throughout the earth pro­claimed His Son;

Say ye to all the sin­ful race

He died for all your sins t’atone.

Sion

thy suf­fer­ing God be­hold

Thy Sav­ior and sal­va­tion

too:

He comes

He comes

so long fore­told

Clothed in a vest of bloody hue.

Himself pre­pares His peo­ple’s hearts

Breaks and binds up

and wounds and heals

A mys­tic death

and life im­parts

Empties the full

the emp­tied fills.

He fills whom first He hath pre­pared

With Him the per­fect grace is giv’n

Himself is here their great re­ward

Their future and their pre­sent Heav­en.

They now the ho­ly peo­ple named

Their glo­ri­ous ti­tle shall ex­press

From all ini­qui­ty re­deemed

Filled with the Lord their right­eous­ness.

A chos­en

saved

pe­cul­iar race

Sion

with all thy sons thou art

Elect thro’ sanc­ti­fy­ing grace

Perfect in love

and pure in heart.

A peo­ple glo­ri­ous all with­in

Now

on­ly now

and not be­fore

Born from above Thou canst not sin

And God can nev­er leave thee more.