Now glory to the God who breaks,
The monarch of the realms on high,
And with his trampling chariot shakes
The azure pavement of the sky.
Now glory to the God who breaks,
The monarch of the realms on high,
And with his trampling chariot shakes
The azure pavement of the sky,
The azure pavement of the sky.

Now glory to the God whose throne
Far from this world obscure and dim,
Holds its eternal state alone
Beyond the flight of seraphim.
Now glory to God.

The maids lift up their hymn around the temple,
Now lead the Priestess forth to hear her doom,
To worship at Apollo's shrine or die.

Io Paean! as we sing
Light our smoking censers swing,
And each laden basket showers
All its painted store of flowers.
Io Paean! Clarion God,
Come and fill thy proud abode.

Io Paean! Io Paean!
Io Paean! Io Paean!
Io Paean!

Io Paean! we behold
Naught but walls that flame with gold,
Long retiring colonnades
Crowded with the sacred maids.
Io Paean! youth divine,
Open thou thy sacred shrine.

Io Paean! Io Paean!
Io Paean! Io Paean!
Io Paean!

Io Paean! we adore thee,
Phoebus, low we bow before thee,
Io Paean! Lycian King!
Syria's crowding myriads sing.
Io Paean! Heaven and earth
Mingle in our holy mirth.

Io Paean! Io Paean!

Io Paean! Heav'n and earth
Mingle in our holy mirth.

Io Paean! Io Paean!

Great is Olybius, and his mercy great!
Maiden, upraise thy voice,
Olybius' throne or a blasphemer's fate is thine;
Make thou thy choice.

'Tis made. The funeral pyre.

Blasphemy! Blasphemy!
Hear what the Priestess saith,
She doth profane our faith,
Our God, the God of day,
Our God, the God of day.
Away with her! Away, away with her!
Away with her! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!

God, at whose word the vast creation sprang
Exulting in its light and harmony,
From the blank silence of the void abyss;
That God hath spoken by his Son.
He came from the dark ages of the infant world,
Foretold – the Prophets' everlasting burthen,
The virgin bare the Son, the angelic host
Burst out in song,
The Father from his clouds declared him.

And again he comes,
Again, but not as then.
Not clad in mortal flesh,
To live the life or die the death of man.
Girt with his own omnipotence,
His throne the wreck of worlds;
The glory of his presence lighting infinity,
He comes, he comes to assume the eternal judgment seat!

Then thou and I shall meet once more
Before the face of Him whose awful brightness
Shall be the sun of that dread day in which
The thousand thousands of the angelic hosts
And all the souls of all mankind shall bask,
Waiting their doom eternal.

Thou and I shall then give in the account of this day's process,
And Christ shall render each his own reward.
Now sir, your sentence.

Blasphemy! Blasphemy!
Hear what the Priestess saith,
She doth profane our faith,
Our God, the God of day,
Our God, the God of day.
Away with her! Away, away with her!
Away with her! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!

The Lord my God is with me and I fear not:
The world is but his chamber,
And this earth is but the foot-stool of his throne.
The heav'ns hang in their folds of light
To canopy the Omnipresent.

How doth the rapture of her speech
Enkindle the brightness of her beauty!
Never yet looked she so lovely when her loosed locks
Flowed in the frantic grace of inspiration
From the burst fillet down her snowy neck.

Have mercy, unrelenting heaven!
Have mercy!
O child of mine, have mercy thou!
Was it to curse thy father's brow
That thou, my child, to him wast given?
Have mercy, have mercy, have mercy,
Unrelenting heaven, have mercy!

Have mercy, unrelenting heaven!
Have mercy!
O love of mine, have mercy thou!
To thee my aching heart I bow,
For thee alone that heart hath striven,
Have mercy! Have mercy!

The hour of mercy's o'er — or sacrifice or die.

The hour of mercy's o'er — or sacrifice or die.

What means she?
Why does she look to yon bright heaven?
What sees,
That makes her full eyes kindle
As they gaze undazzled on the fiery sky?

What means yon blaze on high?
The empyrean sky,
Like the proud veil of some proud fane is rending,
I see the star-paved land
Where all the angels stand,
E'en to the highest height in burning rows ascending,
Some with their wings dispread,
And bowed the stately head,
As on some mission of God's love departing,
Like flames from midnight conflagration starting.
Behold! the appointed messengers are they,
And nearest earth they wait to waft our souls away.

Higher and higher still
More lofty stations fill
The jasper courts of the everlasting dwelling.
Cherub and seraph pace
The illimitable space
While sleep the folded plumes from their shoulders swelling.
From all the harping throng
Burst the tumultuous song
Like the unceasing sounds of the cataracts pouring.
Hosanna o'er Hosanna louder soaring,
That, faintly echoing down to earthly ears,
Hath seemed the consort sweet of the harmonious spheres.

Again I see, again,
The great victorious train,
The Martyr Army from their toils reposing:
The blood-red robes they wear
Empurpling all the air,
E'en their immortal limbs the signs of wounds disclosing.

Beyond — Ah! who is there,
With the white, snowy hair?
'Tis He! 'tis He! The Son of Man appearing
At the right hand of One,
The darkness of whose throne
That sun-eyed seraph host behold with awe and fearing.
Hark! thunders from his throne
Like steel-clad armies marching.
The Christ, the Christ, commands us to his home.

Jesus, Redeemer, Lord, I come!
Lord! Lord! I come, I come!

Glory, glory, glory!
The Lord Almighty liveth,
The Lord Almighty doth but take
The mortal life He giveth.
Glory, glory, glory!
The Lord Almighty reigneth,
He who forfeits earthly life
A life celestial gaineth!
Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!
Hallelujah!