Eternal Father, Thou hast said
That Christ all glory shall obtain;
That He Who once a suff’rer bled
Shall o’er the world a conqu’ror reign. We wait Thy triumph, Savior King,
Long ages have prepared Thy way;
Now all abroad Thy banner fling,
Set time’s great battle in array. Thy hosts are mustered to the field;
“The Cross! the Cross!” the battle call;
The old grim towers of darkness yield,
And soon shall totter to their fall. On mountain tops the watch fires glow,
Where scattered wide the watchmen stand;
Voice echoes voice, and onward flow
The joyous shouts from land to land. Oh, fill the Church with faith and power!
Bid her long nights of weeping cease;
To groaning nations haste the hour
Of life and freedom, light and peace. Come, Spirit, make Thy wonders known,
Fulfill the Father’s high decree;
Then earth, the might of hell o’er thrown,
Shall keep her last great jubilee. |
