Classic Poem

Eternal Father! thou hast said
That Christ all glory shall obtain;
That He who once, a sufferer, bled,
Shall o'er the world, a conquerer, reign.

We wait thy triumph, Savior, King!
Long ages have prepared the 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 " — their 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.

Thou hast our humble service blest,
While fifty years have rolled their round;
Weary and worn the fathers rest,
But in their stead the sons are found.

Oh! fill thy church with faith and power!
Bid her long night of weeping cease;
To groaning nations haste the hour
Of life and freedom, light and peace.

Come Spirit, make thy wonders known!
Fulfil the Father's high decree;
Then earth — the might of hell o'er-thrown —
Shall keep her last, great Jubilee.