The poem
(Isaiah, ix. 15-20)
Hear what God the Lord hath spoken, "O my people, faint and few, Comfortless, afflicted, broken, Fair abodes I build for you. Thorns of heartfelt tribulation Shall no more perplex your ways; You shall name your walls, Salvation, And your gates shall all be Praise.
"There, like streams that feed the garden, Pleasures without end shall flow, For the Lord, your faith rewarding, All His bounty shall bestow; Still in undisturb'd possession Peace and righteousness shall reign; Never shall you feel oppression, Hear the voice of war again.
"Ye no more your suns descending, Waning moons no more shall see; But your griefs forever ending, Find eternal noon in me: God shall rise, and shining o'er ye, Change to day the gloom of night; He, the Lord, shall be your glory, God your everlasting light."