O, Spread the Tidings Round

1O, spread the tidings round,
Wherever man is found,
Wherever human hearts And human woes abound;
Let every Christian tongue Proclaim the joyful sound:
The Comforter has come!

2The long, long night is past,
The morning breaks at last;
And hushed the dreadful wail And fury of the blast,
As o'er the golden hills The day advances fast.
The Comforter has come!

3O boundless Love divine!
How shall this tongue of mine To wondering mortals tell The matchless grace divine— That I, a child of sin,
Should in His image shine!
The Comforter has come!

4Sing, 'till the echoes fly Above the vaulted sky,
And all the saints above To all below reply,
In strains of endless love,
The song that ne'er will die:
The Comforter has come!