  O'er Time's mighty billows borne, Angels lead the purple morn; Chasing far the shades of night From the burning throne of light: Where their glorious wings unfold, There the east is streaked with gold; Gilding with celestial dyes The azure curtain of the skies. High in air their matin song Floats the ethereal fields along; Ere creation wakes they sing, Glory to the eternal King! Echo far, Jehovah reigns! Rising from the arms of night, Nature hails the birth of light; Smiling sweetly through her tears, High her verdant crown she rears; At her call the sunny hours Wreathe her humid locks with flowers; Bright with many a lucid gem Shines her spotless diadem: Every grove hath found a voice, Countless tribes in Thee rejoice! In melody untaught they sing Glory to the eternal King! Earth and heaven respond their strains, Lord of all, Jehovah reigns! On man's sin-bound soul and eyes Alone the shade of darkness lies: To laud the eternal Deity! The last his sullen voice to raise, The Lord of life and light to praise— Slumberer, wake!—arise! arise! Join the chorus of the skies!— Dost thou sleep? to whom is given The privilege of sons of heaven? Wake with angel choirs to sing Glory to the Almighty King, Who life within himself retains— Lord of all, Jehovah reigns! Rising o'er the tide of years, Lo, a morn more blessed appears: When yon burning orb of fire, And moon, and stars, and heavens expire, And all that once had life and breath, Emerging from the arms of death, And countless millions meet their God! Whose hand the links of time shall sever, And man shall wake—to live for ever! When souls redeemed with angels sing, Glory to the eternal king! Vanquished death is led in chains— Lord of life, Jehovah, reigns! |
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