P. Doddridge


HARK, the glad sound! The Saviour comes,

The Saviour promised long;

Let every heart prepare a throne,

And every voice a song.


He comes, the prisoners to release

In Satan’s bondage held;

The gates of brass before Him burst,

The iron fetters yield.


He comes from thickest films of vice

To clear the mental ray,

And on the sealed eyes of the blind

To pour celestial day.


He comes the broken heart to bind,

The bleeding soul to cure;

And with the treasures of His grace

To enrich the humble poor.


Our glad hosannas, Prince of Peace,

Thy welcome shall proclaim;

And heaven’s eternal arches ring

With Thy beloved Name.


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