The waves of sound may have died away
As ripples faint on a sheltered bay;
But though now faint will be heard again,
By God, ourselves, and the sons of men.
As sound e'en now may be multiplied;
The faintest moan like the roaring tide;
The housefly's tread with its tiny feet
Like tramp of horse on the stone-paved street.
So, though now faint, will those voices be,
When Christ shall come in His majesty;