Mourn, Mizraim, mourn! The weltering wave

Mourn, Mizraim, mourn! The weltering wave
Wails loudly o'er Egyptia's brave
Where lowly laid they sleep;
The salt sea rusts the helmet's crest;
The warrior takes his ocean-rest,

Full far below the deep:
—The deep, the deep, the dreary deep!
— Wail, wail, Egyptia! mourn and weep I
For many a mighty legion fell
Before the God of Israel.

Wake, Israel, wake the harp. The roar
Of ocean's wave on Mizraim 's shore
Rolls now o'er many a crest.
Where, now, the iron chariot's sweep?
Where Pharaoh's host? Beneath the deep

His armies take their rest.
Shout, Israel! Let the joyful cry
Pour forth the notes of victory
High let it swell across the sea,
For Jacob's weary tribes are free!