Fair shines the morning star;

The silver trumpets sound,

Their notes re-echoing far,

While dawns the day around:

Joy to the slave; the slave is free;

It is the year of Jubilee.

Prisoners of hope, in gloom

And silence left to die,

With Christ's unfolding tomb,

Your portals open fly;

Rise with your Lord;--He sets you free;

It is the year of Jubilee.

Ye, who have sold for naught

The land your Fathers won,

Behold, how God hath wrought

Redemption through His Son;

Your heritage again is free;

It is the year of Jubilee.

Ye, who yourselves have sold

For debts to Justice due,

Ransom'd, but not with gold,

He gave Himself for you!

The blood of Christ hath made you free:

It is the year of Jubilee.

Captives of sin and shame,

O'er earth and ocean, hear

An angel's voice proclaim

The Lord's accepted year:

Let Jacob rise, be Israel free;

It is the year of Jubilee.