T. S. M.
There sounds a glorious music
As though all the Heavens rejoice;
There is One who singeth, and wondrous
Is the gladness of His voice.
A joy of surpassing sweetness,
Of love no speech can tell;
I hear, and my heart is broken,
For the Voice I know full well.
That Voice that has called me ever,
Called through the years of sin;
At my door beseeching and knocking
|Let Me, even Me, come in.|
And now in His joy He singeth,
In His joy He singeth of me,
And all the Heavens make music
That the gladness of God they see --
|He was dead -- he was dead, and he liveth,
He was lost, was lost, and is found!|
This is the song He singeth,
The marvellous joyful sound.
Through the open doors of Heaven
Afar through the starless night,
Is borne that hymn of rejoicing,
The music of God's delight.