Lo! from the Desert Homes

Lo! from the de­sert homes

Where he hath hid so long

The new Eli­as comes

In stern­est wis­dom strong;

The voice that cries

Of Christ on high

And judg­ment nigh

From op­en­ing skies.

Your God e’en now doth stand

At Heav­en’s op­en­ing door;

His fan is in His hand

And He will purge His floor;

The wheat He claims

And with Him stows

The chaff He throws

To quench­less flames.

Ye haugh­ty mount­ains

bow

Your sky-as­pir­ing heads;

Ye val­leys

hid­ing low

Lift up your gen­tle meads;

Make His way plain

Your king be­fore

For ev­er­more

He comes to reign.

May Thy dread voice around

Thou har­bin­ger of Light

On our dull ears still sound

Lest here we sleep in night

Till judg­ment come

And on our path

Shall burst the wrath

And death­less doom.

O God

with love’s sweet might

Who dost anoint and arm

Christ’s sol­dier for the fight

With grace that shields from harm

Thrice bless­èd Three

Heav’n’s end­less days

Shall sing Thy praise

Eternally.