They come! to Olive's brow they come!
The scattered tribes return!
They gaze on dear Jerusalem,
O'er which their spirits yearn.
O wondrous page of history!
O prophecy o'erpast!
For Jewish feet shall tread the courts
Of Omar's mosque at last.

Where are the barriers, firm and strong,
To check the advancing tide?
Where are the Roman soldiers now?
Where is the Moslem pride?
God speaks: t'is done! Those prophet-tones
Which through the ages rang
No longer sound in Jewish ears
With heavy, martial clang.

The angel-song o'er Bethlehem's plains—
The note of peace and love—
Now like Creation's fiat sounds,
And all the world shall move.
On Europe's plains, 'neath Syria's palms,
May sanguine currents flow;
Yet louder sounds the anthem sweet
Which all the world shall know.

E'en 'though to War's fell power, alas!
Broad lands may still be given,
Yet “Peace on earth, good will to men,
Glory to God in heaven.”
Shall soon the song of nations be,—
Our own and all beside,—
Till the glad stream of brotherhood
Flows a resistless tide.

Partition walls shall crumble then,
And Jew and Gentile bend,
With loving hearts, at one fair shrine,
Their offerings to blend.
Then shall the bondman fling his chains
With joyful shout away;
And every heart with praise shall hail
Earth's bright millennial day.