Hark The Glad Sound! The Saviour Comes, Poem by Philip Doddridge

Hark the glad sound! the Saviour comes,
The Saviour 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 from thickest films of vice
To clear the mental ray:
And on the eye-balls of the blind
To poor celestial day.

He comes the broken heart to bind,
The bleeding soul to cure;
And with the treasures of his grace,
Enrich the humble poor,

Our glad Hosannas, Prince of peace,
Thy welcome shall proclaim;
And heaven's eternal arches ring
With thy beloved name!