ZION'S DESOLATION AND RECOVERY.
1 Poor Zion lies in sore distress,
Her walls are broken down;
The briars of the wilderness,
Her walks have overgrown.
Her palaces are desolate,
Her courts a place of owls;
The Satyr there doth meet his mate;
And nest for other fowls.
2 A dreadful curse hath overspread
The land both far and wide;
The nations mourn for lack of bread,
The springs of water dried.
Go, go, ye priests before the Lord,
And at his altar mourn;
That he may sheath his dreadful sword,
And let his grace return.
8 Methinks the clouds begin to move,
Sweet spring is drawing near;
The voice of the sweet turtle dove,
The land begins to cheer.
Methinks I hear the watchman ery,
O Zion now behold;
With eagles' wings you soon shall fly,
The feathers tinged with gold.
4 Your wall again shall be rebuilt,
Your palaces around;
The Lord who has remov'd your guilt,
Doth rich in grace abound.
He'll pave your streets with purest gold,
Your gates with diamonds bright;
Your riches never can be told,
You are the Lord's delight.
2 I once was happy in the Lord,
My soul was in a flame;
I did delight to hear his word,
And praise his holy name.
His children were my heart's delight,
I lov'd their company—
I liv'd by faith both day and night,
In him who died for me.
3 But wo is me, those joys are past,
Those blissful scenes are o'er;
I'm like a city quite laid waste,
To be rebuilt no more.
In vain I cry, in vain I mourn,
In vain I seek for rest,
I fear the dove will ne'er return
To my poor troubled breast.
4 Alas! alas! where shall 1 go,
Jesus from me is gone;
A child of sorrow, grief and woe,
For evermore undone.
The gospel too is hid from me,
Tho' often I do hear
The law denounces death on me,
And thunders out despair.
5 My hope is fled, and faith I've none,
God's word I cannot bear;
My sense and reason almost gone,
Fill'd with tormenting fear;
What next to do, I cannot tell,
So keen my sorrows are-
Without relief I sink to hell,
To howl in long despair.
The devils waiting me around,
To make my soul a prey;
I wait to hear the trumpet sound,
"Take, take the wretch away.
I linger, pine, I groan and sigh,
Sleep now has left mine eyes;
And ghastly death seems drawing nigh,
And that without disguise.
7 that I was some bird or beast,
Was I a stark or owl,
Some lofty tree should bear my nest,
Or through the desert prowl,
But I have an immortal soul,
Within this house of clay,
That either must with devils howl,
Or dwell in endless day.
One ev❜ning pensive as I lay,
Alone upon the ground,
As I to God began to pray,
A light shone all around.
These words with power went thro' my heart
I've come to set you free;
Death, hell, nor grave shall never part,
My love (my Son) from thee.
9 My dungeon shook, my chains flew off,
Glory to God I cry'd;
My soul was filled, I cry'd enough,
For me the Savior died!
The winter's past, the rain is gone,
Sweet flowers doth now appear;
The morning's brought a glorious sun,
That's banished ev'ry fear.
To take his exiles home.
His trumpet sounding through the sky,
To set poor captives free-
The day of wonder now is come,
The year of Jubilee.
2 Ye heralds blow your trumpets loud,
The earth shall know her doom;
Go spread the news from pole to pole,
Behold the judge is come;
Blow out the sun, burn up the earth,
Consume the rolling flood;
While ev'ry star shall disappear.
Go turn the moon to blood.
3 Arise ye nations under grouna,
Before the Judge appear;
All tongues and languages shall come,
Their final doom to hear.
King Jesus on his dazzling throne,
Ten thousand angels round;
And Gabriel with a silver trump,
Echoes an awful sound.
4 The glorious news of gospel grace,
To sinners now is o'er;
The trump in Zion now is still,
And to be heard no more.
The watchmen all have left the walls,
And with their flocks above,
On Canaan's happy shore they sing,
And shout redeeming love.
1 Come all my brethren in the Lord,
Whose hearts are joined in one;
Hold up your heads with courage bold;
Your race is almost run-
Above the clouds behold him stand,
And smiling bids you come;
And angels whisp'ring you away,
To your eternal home.
2 A pilgrim on his dying bed,
With glory in his soul;
Upwards he lifts his longing eyes,
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