Weeping endures but for a night,
Joy cometh with the morning light;
Joy cometh of celestial birth,
Unsullied by the blight of earth.
Joy cometh faithful hearts to thrill,
That fears of change no more will chill;
Transporting joy, that fills the soul,
While everlasting ages roll.
Then, mourning pilgrim, upward gaze,
Beyond this dark and thorny maze
A joy for every tear is found,
A healing balm for every wound.
No sorrow there shall dim the eye,
No wintry winds or storms are nigh,
No sighs borne on the fragrant air;
But all shall in the glory share.
Let hope thy bosom cheer, forlorn,
To boldly breast each rising storm;
For whatsoe’er thy grief may be,
The morning bringeth joy to thee.
Awake! For lo, not distant far,
The rising of the Morning Star;
O watch to catch the new-born ray,
That ushers in a cloudless day.
Hail! Glorious morn! Whose radiant light,
Shall bid the darkness take it flight
Shall chase the shades of gloom away
And night be turned to endless day.
