Hark! The glad sound!
Hark! The glad sound! The Savior comes!
the Savior promised long!
Let every heart prepare a throne, and every voice a song.
On him the Spirit largely poured, exerts its sacred fire,
wisdom and might and zeal and love,
his holy breast inspire.
He comes the prisoners to release, in Satan's bondage held.
The gates of brass before him burst,
the iron fetters yield.
He comes the broken heart to bind,
the bleeding soul to cure,
and with the treasures of his grace
to enrich the humble poor.
His silver trumpets publish loud the jubilee of the Lord.
Our debts are all remitted now, our heritage restored.
Our glad hosannas, Prince of peace,
thy welcome shall proclaim,
and heaven's eternal arches ring with thy beloved name.
Words: Philip Dodderidge, 1735, Translation and Paraphrases,
Tune: Unknown; "Robinson" in Wyeth's Repository of Sacred Music, Part Second, 1813
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