"FAINT, YET PURSUING."
A SONG OF THE CHURCH MILITANT.
All day among the corn-fields of the plain,
Reaping a mighty harvest to the Lord,
Our hands have bound the sheaves; we come again,—
Shout for the earners stored!
Reaping a mighty harvest to the Lord,
Our hands have bound the sheaves; we come again,—
Shout for the earners stored!
All day among the vineyards of the field,
Our feet have trodden out the red ripe vine:
Sing! sing for hearts that have not spared to yield
A yet more purple wine!
Our feet have trodden out the red ripe vine:
Sing! sing for hearts that have not spared to yield
A yet more purple wine!
All day against the spoilers of our land,
Our arms made bare the keen and glittering sword;
None turnèd back, none stayed the lifted hand,—
Sing! sing unto the Lord!
Our arms made bare the keen and glittering sword;
None turnèd back, none stayed the lifted hand,—
Sing! sing unto the Lord!
All day beset by spies, begirt with foes
Building a house of holiness; by night
We watched beside our weapons; slow it rose,—
Sing! sing from Zion's height!
Building a house of holiness; by night
We watched beside our weapons; slow it rose,—
Sing! sing from Zion's height!
