Hark, hark, my soul! angelic songs are swelling O'er earth's green fields and ocean's wave beat shore; How sweet the truth those blessed strains are telling Of that new life when sin shall be no more!

Onward we go, for still we hear them singing, "Come, weary souls, for Jesus bids you come;" And thro' the dark, its echoes sweetly ringing, The music of the Gospel leads us home.

Far, far away, like bells at evening pealing, The voice of Jesus sounds O'er land and sea, And laden souls, by thousands meekly stealing, Kind shepherd, turn their weary steps to thee.

Rest come at length; though life belong and dreary, The day must dawn and darksome night be past; Faith journey ends in welcome to the weary, And heav'n, the heart's true home, will come at last.

Angels, sing on! Your faithful watches keeping; Sing us sweet fragment of the songs above; Till morning's joy shall end the night of weeping, And life's long shadows break in cloudless love.