STILL o’er Earth’s sky the clouds of anger roll,

And God’s revenge hangs heavy on her soul.

 Yet shall she rise—though first by God chastised—

In glory and in beauty then baptized.

Yea, Earth, thou shalt arise; thy Father’s aid

Shall heal the wound His chastening hand hath made;

Shall judge the proud oppressor’s ruthless sway

And burst his bonds, and cast his cords away.

Then on thy soil shall deathless verdure spring;

Break forth, ye mountains, and ye valleys, sing!

No more your thirsty rocks shall frown forlorn,

The unbeliever’s jest, the heathen’s scorn;

The sultry sands shall tenfold harvests yield,

And a new Eden deck the thorny field.

E’en now we see, wide-waving o’er the land,

The mighty angel lifts his golden wand,

Courts the bright vision of descending power,

Tells every gate, and measures every tower;

And chides the tardy seals that yet detain

Thy Lion, Judah, from His destined reign!

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