 | Poems of home and country |  |
YOUR THOUSAND VOICES RAISE.
A CENTENARY HYMN.
Your thousand voices raise,
In symphony of praise,
Clear, sweet and strong;
Tell it with joy unknown,
Tell it in loftiest tone,
Jesus is King, alone,—
The note prolong.
In symphony of praise,
Clear, sweet and strong;
Tell it with joy unknown,
Tell it in loftiest tone,
Jesus is King, alone,—
The note prolong.
He came, He saw, He died,—
Jesus, the Crucified;
He lives, He reigns.
In Him all glories meet;
Kings bow before His feet;
His foes are mown like wheat;
His throne remains.
Jesus, the Crucified;
He lives, He reigns.
In Him all glories meet;
Kings bow before His feet;
His foes are mown like wheat;
His throne remains.
Born from an infant root,
Once like a feeble shoot,
Hopeful and brave;
The twig has grown a tree,
Known over land and sea,—
O'er what immensity
Its branches wave!
Once like a feeble shoot,
Hopeful and brave;
The twig has grown a tree,
Known over land and sea,—
O'er what immensity
Its branches wave!
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Ride on, triumphant Lord!
A hundred years record
Thy victories won;
Hasten the glorious day
When all shall own Thy sway,
And earth and heaven shall say,—
“The work is done.”
A hundred years record
Thy victories won;
Hasten the glorious day
When all shall own Thy sway,
And earth and heaven shall say,—
“The work is done.”
| Poems of home and country | |