A Voice from the desert comes awful and shrill;
The Lord is advancing; prepare ye the way!
The word of Jehovah he comes to fulfil,
And o’er the dark world pour the splendor of day.
Bring down the proud mountain, though towering to heaven,
And be the low valley exalted on high;
The rough path and crooked be made smooth and even,
For, Zion! your King, your Redeemer, is nigh.
The beams of salvation his progress illume,
The lone, dreary wilderness sings of her God;
The rose and the myrtle there suddenly bloom,
And the olive of peace spreads its branches abroad.