1. Hark, the glad sound! the Sa- vior comes! The Sa- vior pro- mised long; Let ev- ery heart pre- pare a throne, And ev- ery voice a song.

2. On Him the Spi- rit, large- ly poured, Ex- erts its sac- red Fire; Wis- dom and might, and zeal and love, His ho- ly Breast in- spire.

3. He comes the pris- 'ners to re- lease, In Sa- tan's bon- dage held; The gates of brass be- fore Him burst, The ir- on fet- ters yield.

4. He comes from thick- est films of vice To clear the men- tal ray, And on the eye- balls of the blind To pour ce- les- tial day.

5. He comes the bro- ken heart to bind, The bleed- ing soul to cure; And with the trea- sures of His grace T'en- rich the hum- ble poor.