But Who Shall See. (Air.--Stevenson.)

A poem by Thomas Moore

But who shall see the glorious day
When, throned on Zion's brow,
The LORD shall rend that veil away
Which hides the nations now?[1]
When earth no more beneath the fear
Of this rebuke shall lie;[2]
When pain shall cease, and every tear
Be wiped from every eye.[3]

Then, Judah, thou no more shall mourn
Beneath the heathen's chain;
Thy days of splendor shall return,
And all be new again.[4]

The Fount of Life shall then be quaft
In peace, by all who come;[5]
And every wind that blows shall waft
Some long-lost exile home.

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