Classic Poem

Hark , His chariot wheels are rolling,
Rolling onward in their might,
All the rage of hell controlling,
Jesus scatters death and night.

Speed ye heralds—sound His story,
Daunted not by pain or loss,
Offer grace—and point to glory,
Each the purchase of the Cross.

See—it falls—each Idol Dagon,
Prostrate at Jehovah's shrine,
And the poor benighted Pagan,
Feel and own the conquest thine.

Powers of darkness—boast no longer,
Captive souls are doubly free,
Ye were strong—but Jesus stronger,
His is now the victory.

Haste the day, when rivers gushing,
In the deserts spring to birth,
And our Lord, the Tempter crushing,
Makes an Eden of the earth.