Our choral hymn in these awakening days:
O send us down anew that fire
Which of old lived in David’s and Isaiah’s lyre.
Centuries had rolled, and earth lay tombed in sleep,
The nightmare-sleep of nations beneath kings;
And far abroad o’er liberty’s great deep
Death’s angel waved his black and stilling wings.
Then struck Thine hour!
Thou, in Thy power,
But breathedst, and the free stood up, a tower;