Through the eternal blue

The circling worlds renew

Their joyful hymn:

They sing in mighty chord,

Like mountain floods outpoured--

'Not unto us, O Lord,

But--Unto Him!'

Great winds and waves unite

With thunders to recite

The choral theme:

The pleasant whispering rill,

The voice of torrent shrill,

The storm from hill to hill,

Sing--'Unto Him!'

The winged quires of Spring

Make all the woodlands ring

With grateful hymn:

Each leafy bush ablaze

Its altar doth upraise,

For festivals of praise

Held 'unto Him.'

Soul! would'st thou turn aside

This praise to thine own pride,

Making it dim?

The song of self in thee

Would break the harmony

Which floweth fall and free,

All--'Unto Him.'

Like some frail shower-drop,

Losing itself in hope

To find the sea,--

Let charity's sweet reign

Grant me the sacred gain,

To lose, and still retain

Myself in Thee.

Myself no more I know

By Jesu's cup of woe,

Filled to the brim:

Dying beside God's rood,

Beneath the tears and blood,

Is life's beatitude,

Sealed 'unto Him.'

If Jesus sowed in tears

The harvest of the years,

When days were dim;

One day shall stand revealed

His golden harvest-field,

And all the worlds shall yield,

Praise--unto Him.