Classic Poem

Spirit of everlasting grace,
Infinite source of life, come down,
These tombs unlock, these dead upraise,
Thy glorious power and love make known.

Breathe o'er this valley of the dead,
Send forth thy quickening might abroad,
Till, rising from their tombs, they spread,
In full array, — the host of God!

Thy heritage lies desolate,
And all thy pleasant places mourn;
O look upon our low estate,
In loving kindness, Lord, return!

Now let thy glory be revealed,
Now let thy presence with us rest; —
O heal us, and we shall be healed!
O bless us, and we shall be blest!