O EARTH, rejoice! from Salem see
The chosen heralds bear
Glad tidings to the distant isles,
That Salem's King is there.
Lo, Jacob's star, in vision seen
By Balaam's wond'ring eye!
It bursts upon the nations now,
The day-spring from on high.
A crown, but not a crown of thorn,
Surrounds the Victor's brow;
That hand that once was pierced for sin,
It wields the scepter now.
But brighter honors far than those
Of David's royal Son,
As Head of his anointed Bride,
The Lord of life hath won.
Though grace May shine in all his ways,
With Israel's chosen race;
'Tis in his church alone we see
The full display of grace.
'Twas grace divine that made him love,
And choose her for his own;
Grace raised her from her low estate,
And placed her on the throne.