Classic Poem

Hark, creation's Alleluia, rising from a thousand shores,
Vibrates sweet as angel voices, loud as many waters roars, —
" Blessing, glory, power, salvation to our God upon the Throne,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, infinite, supreme, alone. "
On and on, from dawn to sunset, borne on every changeful wind,
From the myriad-minded peoples of the hoary climes of Ind,
From the ransom'd sons of Afric, from old Sinim's crowded lands,
From the freeborn wanderers roaining. Araby's unconquer'd sands.

From the coasts of ice to regions where perpetual summer smiles,
From the sunny-hearted children of the far Pacific isles,
From the numbers without number of rejoicing Christendom,
From the watchers for His advent who will soon to Zion come.

Gathering strength from every nation, every kindred, tribe, and tongue,
Hark, that everlasting anthem, hark that glorious tide of song,
Floods the valleys with its music, echoes from the lasting hills,
Onward, upward, till the temple of the living God it fills.

Hark, it mingles with the raptures of the armies of the sky,
Who have pass'd through tribulation into perfect rest on high,
Clothed, in robes of spotless beauty, palms of triumph in their hand,
Harping on their harps Hosannas, as before His face they stand:

" Glory unto Him who loved us, Him who wash'd us with His blood,
Kings and priests henceforth for ever to our Father and our God.
Alleluia! saints and angels, raise your loudest loftiest strains:
Alleluia! hell is vanquish'd; God the Lord Almighty reigns. "