Wake, Isles of the South!

Wake

isles of the South! Your re­demp­tion is near

No long­er re­pose in the bor­ders of gloom;

The strength of His chos­en in love shall ap­pear

And light shall arise on the verge of the tomb

And light shall arise on the verge of the tomb.

The bil­lows that girt you

the wild waves that roar

The ze­phyrs that play where the ocean storms cease

Shall bear the rich freight to your de­so­late shore

Shall waft the glad tid­ings of pardon and peace

Shall waft the glad tid­ings of par­don and peace.

On the is­lands that sit in the re­gions of night

The lands of des­pair

to obli­vi­on a prey

The morn­ing will op­en with heal­ing and light

The glad star of Beth­le­hem bright­en to­day

The glad star of Beth­le­hem bright­en to­day.

The al­tar and id­ol

in dust ov­er­thrown

The in­cense for­bade that was hal­lowed with blood

The Priest of Mel­chi­ze­dec

there shall atone

And the shrines of Ato­oi be sacred to God

And the shrines of Ato­oi be sac­red to God.

The hea­then will hast­en to wel­come the time

The day­spring

the pro­phet in vi­sion once saw

When the beams of Mes­si­ah will ’lu­mine each clime

And the isles of the ocean will wait for His law

And the isles of the ocean will wait for His law.

And thou

Oboo­kiah! now saint­ed ab­ove

Wilt re­joice as the her­alds their mis­sion dis­close;

And the pray­er will be heard

that the land thou didst love

May blo­ssom as Shar­on

and bud as the Rose!

May blo­ssom as Shar­on

and bud as the Rose!