Let the floods clap their hands,
Let the mountains rejoice,
Let all the glad lands
Breathe a jubilant voice;
The sun that now sets on the waves of the sea
Shall gild with his rising the land of the free.
Let the islands be glad!
For their King in his might,
Who his glory hath clad
With a garment of light,
In the waters the beams of his chambers hath laid,
And in the green waters his pathway hath made.
No more shall the deep,
Lend its awe-stricken waves,
In their caverns to steep
Its wild burden of slaves;
The Lord sitteth King—sitteth King on the flood,
He heard, and hath answered the voice of their blood.
Dispel the blue haze,
Golden fountain of morn!
With meridian blaze
The wide ocean adorn:
The sunlight has touched the glad waves of the sea,
And day now illumines the land of the free.