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Hark, creation's alleluia,
rising from a thousand shores,
vibrates sweet as angel voices,
loud as many waters, roars--
"Blessing, glory, power, salvation
to our God upon the throne,
Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
infinite, supreme, alone."
Gathering strength from every nation,
every kindred, tribe, and tongue,
hark, that everlasting anthem,
hark, that glorious tide of song,
floods the valleys with its music,
echoes from the lasting hills,
onward, upward, till the temple
of the living God it fills.
Hark, it mingles with the raptures
of the armies of the sky,
who have passed through tribulation
into perfect rest on high,
clothed in robes of spotless beauty,
palms of triumph in their hand,
harping on their harps hosannas,
as before his face they stand:
"Glory unto him who loved us,
him who washed us with his blood,
kings and priests henceforth for ever
to our Father and our God.
Alleluia! saints and angels,
raise your loudest, loftiest strains!
Alleluia! hell is vanquished;
God, the Lord Almighty, reigns."