University of Virginia Library


81

A SONG OF VICTORY.

Sing we now a song of triumph;
Leave betimes the shadowy vales
Where the winds across our lute-strings
Sink to low and sorrowing wails.
Stand we now upon the mountains
Where the glory shines complete;
Where the thunders roll beneath us
Making music at our feet.
Lo, the pathway lies behind us,
Where we marched o'er heaps of slain:
And our vanquished foes lie bleeding
All along the battle-plain;—
All the sordid troop of Mammon;
Coward Fear and lust of Praise;
Death that cast his baleful shadow
Over all our darkling ways;
Unbelief that feeds on ashes;
Fear of man that brings a snare;
Selfish Grief and selfish Pleasure;
Carnal Pride and haggard Care;
Satan in fair form transfigured
Strewing garlands on the road
To install our vaunting Reason
On the eternal throne of God.

82

See his rabble host retreating!
Shattered spear and broken shield;
See his waning camp-fires flicker
All along the conquered field;
And o'er all like flashing sunbeams
Waves the mighty Conqueror's sword—
Louder than your Io Pæans
Allelujahs to the Lord!
Then beyond the Silent River
See the mystic mountains rise!
Range on range away ascending
Till they kiss the vaulted skies;
And along their sun-smit summits
Thousands walk with sparkling feet,
And give back our song of triumph
In the distance soft and sweet.
From the myriad gleaming turrets
Whence the billowy music swells,
Clear across the Silent River,
Float the chimes of morning bells:
They have conquered—we have conquered—
And one note of triumph raise,
Heaven and earth here join together
In their grandest song of praise.
Ah! adown the valley yonder,
Bending earthward, draped with woe,
Keeping step to funeral dirges,
Who are they that creep so slow?
Haste ye swiftly with the tidings
Wafted from the peaks of day;
Lead them up to Mount Ascension,
Fling their scrannel pipes away.

83

Give them beauty now for ashes;
Out of weakness make them strong;
And in place of churchyard music,
Give the resurrection song,
Which the beauteous lips of loved ones
That they kissed with sad farewells,
Sing to them from o'er the River
Mid the chimes of morning bells.
Now the noontide floods the waters,
Still beneath the silent oar,
And their mocky depths of crystal
Copy down the immortal shore.
Sing we then upon the mountains
Where the glory shines complete,
To the conquering Christ hosannas—
Fling your garlands at his feet!