Hymn 105:
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 wanderes roaming
Araby’s unonquer’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 Chritendom,
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 valley 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 vanquished:
God the Lord Almighty reign”
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 wanderes roaming
Araby’s unonquer’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 Chritendom,
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 valley 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 vanquished:
God the Lord Almighty reign”
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