Behold My Servant! see Him rise
Exalted in My might!
Him have I chosen, and in Him
I place supreme delight.

On Him, in rich effusion poured,
My Spirit shall descend;
My truths and judgments He shall show
To earth’s remotest end.

Gentle and still shall be His voice,
No threats from Him proceed;
The smoking flax He shall not quench,
Nor break the bruisèd reed.

The feeble spark to flames He’ll raise;
The weak will not despise;
Judgment He shall bring forth to truth,
And make the fallen rise.

The progress of His zeal and power
Shall never know decline,
Till foreign lands and distant isles
Receive the law divine.

He Who erected Heav’n’s bright arch,
And bade the planets roll,
Who peopled all the climes of earth,
And formed the human soul,

Thus saith the Lord, Thee have I raised,
My Prophet Thee install;
In right I’ve raised Thee, and in strength
I’ll succor whom I call.

I will establish with the lands
A covenant in Thee,
To give the Gentile nations light,
And set the prisoners free:

Asunder burst the gates of brass;
The iron fetters fall;
And gladsome light and liberty
Are straight restored to all.

I am the Lord, and by the name
Of great Jehovah known;
No idol shall usurp My praise,
Nor mount into My throne.

Lo! former scenes, predicted once
Conspicuous rise to view;
And future scenes, predicted now,
Shall be accomplished too.

Sing to the Lord in joyful strains!
Let earth His praise resound,
Ye Who upon the ocean dwell,
And fill the isles around!

O city of the Lord! begin
The universal song;
And let the scattered villages
The cheerful notes prolong.

Let Kedar’s wilderness afar
Lift up its lonely voice;
And let the tenants of the rock
With accents rude rejoice;

Till ‘midst the streams of distant lands
The islands sound His praise;
And all combined, with one accord,
Jehovah’s glories raise.

Wake, isles of the South! Your redemption is near,
No longer repose in the borders of gloom;
The strength of His chosen in love shall appear,
And light shall arise on the verge of the tomb,
And light shall arise on the verge of the tomb.

The billows that girt you, the wild waves that roar,
The zephyrs that play where the ocean storms cease,
Shall bear the rich freight to your desolate shore,
Shall waft the glad tidings of pardon and peace,
Shall waft the glad tidings of pardon and peace.

On the islands that sit in the regions of night,
The lands of despair, to oblivion a prey,
The morning will open with healing and light,
The glad star of Bethlehem brighten today,
The glad star of Bethlehem brighten today.

The heathen will hasten to welcome the time,
The dayspring, the prophet in vision once saw,
When the beams of Messiah will ’lumine each clime,
And the isles of the ocean will wait for His law,
And the isles of the ocean will wait for His law.