Rolling away the clouds of sin,
Letting the floodtides of glory in,
Rolling away the thoughts of pain,
Soothing to rest the fevered brain,
Rolling away the shades of death,
Giving the nations breath,
Rolling away the night of woe,
Furling our banner o'er friend and foe,
O, list! to a world in tears we bring,
The glorified beauty of Christ, our King.
Sweet as the breath of a new-born day,
Soft as the moonbeam's shimmering ray,
Fair as the fragrance that dwells within
The soul of him who hath conquered sin,
Bright as the dewdrops that glint in the sun,
And clear as the day when the night is done,—
It covers the earth with a glad refrain,
The surcease of sorrow and sin and pain,—
For Truth's mighty billows have swept the soul,
And Good over evil has gained control.
No longer in doubt and dark dismay,
We long for the dawn of a brighter day;
No longer kneel by the open grave,
And pray to a far-away God to save,
No longer await the eternal home,
Or sigh for a "kingdom" already "come."
For the fruitage is here: the time "at hand"
And we rest, to-day, in the "promised land."
Dear God, lead us on, lest our footsteps stray,
And we turn from thy Presence, to the far-away.
