The Transfiguration by George E. Tack

Pacific Press Publishing Association · Mountain View, California · Sep 8, 1909

The Transfiguration

By George E. Tack

Lo, on the palace dome of night, Glitter the stars. Silently from those mines of light, Fall silver bars.

O’er the horizon’s darkened rim, The golden haze Floats, and each mountain vast doth limn With pencil rays.

Dark are the hills once bright with day, While shadows dream Along their base, where waters play, And softly gleam.

Out from the city silent forms, With faces grave, Ascend yon mountain, scarred by storms, Where demons rave.

Now on the summit men appear From realms of light, The ones whom Christ Himself did cheer In their dark night.

They speak of Calvary’s death of shame, The burial, And Resurrection’s dawn of flame O’er death and hell.

Glistering are the garments, white As driven snow, Of Christ, and shed o’er scenes of night A heavenly glow.

And hark, the Father’s voice is heard: “Hear ye My Son. By tabernacles be not lured My will be done.”

The glory fades, the voice is still, The hills soft dream, The four return through morn’s air chill Each face agleam.

Far o’er the brightening azure sky, Whose tapers gleam And flicker, ere they wane and die The sunbeams stream.

But never, till the mountains flee Before His face, Shall men again such glory see, And holy grace.

GEORGE E. TACK.

Baltimore, Md.