1 Wake, O wake, the world from sleeping! Watchman, watchman, what's the hour? Hark ye, only hear him saying 'Tis the last, the eleventh hour! Chorus We're the true born sons of Zion, Who with us that can compare We're the royal branch of Joseph, The bright and glorious morning star. 2 Lo! the Lion's left his thicket; Up, ye watchmen, be in haste; The destroyer of the Gentiles Goes to lay their cities waste.... 3 Bring the remnants from their exile, For the promise is to them; Japhet's ruled the world his time out; He must leave the "tents of Shem." 4 Comfort ye the house of Israel; They are pardoned; gather them; Hear the watchman's proclamation,— Jews, rebuild Jerusalem. 5 Soon the Jews will know their error— How they killed the Holy One, And they'll mourn and shout Hosannah! This is "THE BELOVED SON!" 6 Sound the trumpet with the tidings— Call in all of Abra'm's seed; Though the Gentiles may reject it, Christ will come in very deed.