A gloom o’er all the nations cast,
Whence rose the sound of wailing.
The idol-gods have many a shrine
Where, bound in chains of error,
Myriads shut out from light divine
Crouch down in shame and terror.
But in the East Hope’s rosy light
Proclaims a brighter dawning;
Though woe endureth for a night,
Joy cometh in the morning.