Through all our days of sorrow
There sounds the certain strain
Of God's eternal kindness,
Of Mind's supreme demesne.
Through all our tears and trials,
Through all the hours forlorn,
A glorious faith is beaming,
A joyous hope is born.
The storm-tossed clouds are breaking,
The hosts of heaven appear,
Earth's warring hordes are scattered,
Millennium dawn draws near.
Oh, may we rise and welcome
Our pure and perfect birth,
When Christ shall reign unchallenged,
The Prince of Peace on earth.
