Shout, Glory, Halleluiah!
By ARTHUR W. SPAULDING
O BROTHER, when the powers of earth are failing in our sight,
And all delights are dying that have given men delight;
O brother, when the sea is blood, and all the sunshine death,
And pestilence is breathing in the scorching zephyr’s breath;
Yes, brother, when the hosts of hell are cursing in their woe,
But all the saints are resting in the God they’ve learned to know,—
O brother, what a wonder that will be to you and me!
Shout, Glory, halleluiah! what a wonder that will be! O brother, when the Word of God has perished from men’s thought,
And hateful to the minds of men are all the works they’ve wrought;
When men shall plead for comfort, and shall run from sea to sea,
Yet everywhere shall meet the curse from which they seek to flee,—
Then, brother, if the truth of God has ruled our daily life,
And we can live in peace and joy amid the earth’s mad strife,
O brother, what a comfort that will be to you and me!
Shout, Glory, halleluiah! what a comfort that will be! O brother, when the ties of blood hold nevermore a tie,
And children curse the parents who have borne them but to die;
And, brother, when the prince and priest shall blanch before the curse
Of them whom they have cursed with law, and screed, and prayer, and verse,—
Then, brother, if it be that you and I have held our way
In living life before our sons in just the form we pray,
O brother, what a joy supreme ’twill be for you and me!
Shout, Glory, halleluiah! what an endless joy ’twill be! O brother, when the King of kings shall call his countless bands,
And put the crowns upon their heads, the harps within their hands;
Yes, brother, when the holy tribes from o’er the Eden earth
Shall make the Sabbath air to ring with joy and holy mirth,—
Then, brother, when we raise the voice to chant that glory-song,
And Glory! glory! glory! through the streets shall roll along,—
O brother, what a glory that will be to you and me!
Shout, Glory, halleluiah! what a glory that will be!