The church of the morning bright, Like crystal so clear her light, Triumphant, she knew no fears; In finest white linen dressed, Pure holiness she possessed Two hundred and sev’nty years.
Refrain: Hell never can destroy the church, Built by the Savior’s hands; Upon the Rock, the solid Rock, Christ Jesus, still she stands; In spite of persecution’s flood, And gates of hell forsooth; She’s still the kingdom of the Lord, The pillar of the truth.
The sun went down ere his time, The moon also ceased to shine, Left Zion in bitter tears; No star then appeared in sight, Oh, long dreary papal night! Twelve hundred and sixty years.
A rising the sun of day, Disperses the night away While popery quakes with fears; Shone dimly the gospel ray, There followed a cloudy day— Three hundred and fifty years.
We welcome the evening light; The gospel so clear and bright Breaks forth as in days of yore; The mists are all cleared away, All hail the supernal day! The sun shall go down no more.