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Isles of the South


Wm. Houser

The words of this piece were "composed by Wm. B. Tappan, Esq., and sung on the wharf at New Haven, at the embarkation of the missionaries for the Sandwich Islands, in 1822." O what hath God wrought in those islands since that time! "The parched ground has become a pool"--"The shrines of Atool" have, indeed, become "sacred to God." The largest church on earth is there; those poor heathens have been given to Jesus for his "inheritance"... "Alleluia! the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth!"--W.H.


Wake, Isles of the South! your redemption is near,

No longer repose in the borders of gloom;

The strength of his chosen in love shall appear,

And light shall arise on the verge of the tomb,

(Repeat previous line).


The billows that girt you, the wild waves that roar,

The zephyrs that play where the ocean storms cease,

Shall bear the rich freight to your desolate shore,

Shall waft the glad tidings of pardon and peace.

(Repeat previous line).


On the islands that sit in the regions of night,

The lands of despair, to oblivion a prey,

The morning will open with healing and light,

The glad Star of Bethlehem brighten to day.

(Repeat previous line).


The altar and idol in dust overthrown,

The incense forbade that was hallowed with blood;

The priest of Melchizedek there shall atone,

And the shrine of Atol be sacred to God.


The heathen will hasten to welcome the time,

The day spring, the prophet in vision once saw,

When the beams of Messiah will 'lumine each clime,

And the isles of the ocean shall wait for his law.

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