Down through the ancient corridors of Time
Isaiah's deathless song rolled full and sweet,
It swayed the universe with tones sublime,
It shook the mighty monarchies of Crime
And held within its eloquence complete
A prophecy of Satan's sure defeat.
Over Earth's waving fields and wave-beat shore,
Over her pomp and glory, pride and gold,
O'er Art's magnificence in cities old,
O'er Nature's artless beauty, sped the word
Fresh from the living presence of the Lord
And wise men marveled at its mystic lore.
Not only to the mighty did it come,
Into the darkened hovels of the poor
Swift did the heralds their glad message bear,
On noiseless wings oped Heaven's mystic door
Revealing all the hidden glory there
And lo, the prophet saw his living Lord,
His matchless throne and gracious seraphim,
He heard the message of the King of Kings
And when the pearly gates swung back again
And the blest vision vanished from his sight
He trod the paths of this world's starless night
As one who had beheld eternal things.
And from his burning pen glad Prophecies
Caught holy wings and from the sacred scroll
Flew to the earth's remotest boundaries
Fraught with redemption for the ruined soul.
Ages passed by, the holy prophet slept;
Man hears no more the music of his voice
His image was not on the land or sea
Still his blest writings made the world rejoice
And still his glad and touching prophecy
Over a world of sorrow, smiled and wept.
Hushed was the holy night, the wise men trod
Judea's winding paths to Bethlehem
Their glad eyes fixed on one resplendent gem
Upheld and guided by the hand of God
That bathed the Orient in celestial light;
Onward it moved in majesty sublime
Its mellow beams winging their flight to earth
Fraught with glad tidings of the Saviour's birth
And then ascending to the throne divine
To tell the angels of a world redeemed,
O'er Heaven's own hosts the wondrous glory streamed.
Earth in her rapture had so glorious grown
That e'en the angels could not stay at home
But left the realm of Heaven to join the strain
That God's great universe could scarce contain,
The wonders of the great redemption plan
Destined to rescue fallen, ruined man.
O prophets of today! Isaiah spake
Of Christ's first coming to a world of sin,
Today his inspired prophecy awake
And yet a newer triumph-hymn begin,
Sing 'till yon heavens take up the rapturous strain,
Jesus has come and he shall come again,
Not as before a meek and lowly child,
Not as before to die upon the cross,
Not as before in dark Gethsemane
To suffer for a world of sinners lost;
He comes to treasure up earth's grain and gold,
He comes to cast away her chaff and dross
To separate the pure from the defiled.
Not from an humble stable shall He rise
To tread a thorny path of woe and pain;
Christ shall descend from Heaven's unclouded skies
With angels and archangels in His train,
Lo, He shall come with trumpet and with shout,
Mortals let not your flickering lamps go out, Jesus has come and He shall come again.