First Line: Lo! from the desert homes

Lo! from the desert homes
Where he hath hid so long,
The new Elias comes,
In sternest wisdom strong;
The voice that cries
Of Christ on high,
And judgment nigh
From opening skies.

Your God e’en now doth stand
At Heaven’s opening door;
His fan is in His hand,
And He will purge His floor;
The wheat He claims
And with Him stows,
The chaff He throws
To quenchless flames.

Ye haughty mountains, bow
Your sky-aspiring heads;
Ye valleys, hiding low,
Lift up your gentle meads;
Make His way plain
Your king before,
For evermore
He comes to reign.