Proud Babylon yet waits her doom, Nor can her tottering palace fall

Verse 1

Proud Babylon yet waits her doom; Nor can her tott'ring palace fall, Till some blest messenger arise, The ransom'd heathen world to call.

Verse 2

Now see the glorious time approach! Behold the mighty angel fly, The gospel tidings to convey To ev'ry land beneath the sky!

Verse 3

See the kind native of Pelew With rapture greet the sacred sound; And, for a Saviour's precious name, Throw his mean idols to the ground.

Verse 4

O see, on Otaheite's isle, And Africa's unhappy shore, The unlearn'd savage press to hear; And hearing, wonder and adore.

Verse 5

See, while the joyful truth is told, That Jesus left his throne in heaven, And suffered, died, and rose again, That all his sins might be forgiv'n:

Verse 6

See what delight, unfelt before, Beams in his fix'd, attentive eye; And hear him ask--"For wretched me, Did this divine Redeemer die?"

Verse 7

"Ah! why have ye so long forborne To tell such welcome news at this? Go now, let ev'ry sinner hear, And share in such exalted bliss!"

Verse 8

Now, Babylon, thy hour is come, Thy curse'd foundation shall give way; And thine eternal overthrow The triumphs of the cross display!