O! golden Hereafter, thine every bright rafter
Will shake in the thunder of sanctified song;
And every swift angel proclaim an evangel,
To summon Godâ??s saints to the glorified throng. ...
Rolling downward, through the midnight,
Comes a glorious burst of heav-nly song;
-Tis a chorus full of sweetness-
And the singers are an angel throng. ...
Where river and ocean meet in a great tempestuous
frown,
Beyond the bar, where on the dunes the white-
capped rollers break;
Above, one windmill stands forlorn on the arid,
grassy down:
I will set my sail on a stormy day and cross the
bar and seek
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