Hark the glad sound! the Sa-viour comes,
The Sa-viour pro-mised long:
Let eve-ry heart pre-pare a throne,
And eve-ry voice a song.
He comes, the pris-oners to re-lease
In Sa-tan's bon-dage held;
The gates of brass be-fore Him burst,
The iron fet-ters yield.
He comes, the bro-ken heart to bind,
The bleed-ing soul to cure,
And with the trea-sures of His grace
To bless the hum-ble poor.
Our glad ho-san-nas, Prince of Peace,
Thy wel-come shall pro-claim;
And heaven's e-ter-nal arch-es ring
With Thy be-loved name.
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