Shake thyself from the dust, faint heart;
Loose thyself from bands that bind.
Thou art not Assyria's thrall;
Captive, rise and freedom find!
Captive, this is Love's own realm!
Lo! the very hills rejoice
That oppression is cast down;
Yea, the streams lift up their voice.
Yea, each dewy blossom glows,
Freed from error's withering blight.
Loosed from tyranny and fear,
Captive, turn ye to the light!
Turn ye to the light, and see
That no evil can dismay,
Gathering clouds of bitterness,
Hiding harmony from day.
Turn ye to the light, faint one;
In the truth is freedom won!
