From Orient lands and islands fair,

Long shrouded with the gloom of night,

Breathes, through the dark and silent air,

The cry of longing for the light.

O Watchman, who on Zion’s hill

Dost search the skies with eyes intent,

What of the night, so long and chill?

When will the weary hours be spent?

What of the night of sin and grief,

The night of ignorance and fear?

Is there no dawning of relief?

Doth not some morning-star appear?

O, yes; lift up your longing eyes!

The morning cometh swiftly on;

The Sun of Righteousness doth rise;

The shades of night will soon be gone.

But, soul, thou must thyself awake,

And welcome His first dawning ray;

Else will the light thy heart forsake,

And leave thee to thy darkening way.

And, Christian, thou must not forget

To send afar the Gospel light,

Lest, tho “the morning cometh,” yet

Of thee be said— “and also night.”