A bleary eye peeked through earth’s veil
To gnaw a meager glance beyond
The gaudy rouge and sore travail
That marked its body’s tethered bond,
To gaze on men redeemed.
A widened eye now drank the scene
That seemed a pungent revelry:
A host of saints- awed, praising, clean–
Raised high the chorus of the free
In worship to their God
While deep below their Lord-washed feet
Another chorus gnashed and groaned.
Their tune of torment droned a beat
To pay and pay yet not atone
For crimes against their God.
The moistened eye then turned away,
For liquid questions blurred its sight.
How dare the children of the day
Not mourn the offspring of the night?
Praise seemed a callous song.
That mortal eye, though straining long,
Could never pierce what veil obscured.
Though marking both eternal songs,
Their joint refrain hummed soft and sure
With lyrics hard to grasp.
One looming day the eye would blink
And waken in eternity
With ears restored to hear in sync
What flesh suppressed with earth’s debris.
There peals the chorus strong.
“All glory to the Lord on High,”
Chimes truth from high and hell as one,
“His grace the pardoned testify,
“His wrath the guilty hide from none,
“His power all convey.
“Look, look upon the mighty Lord!
“What lesser could arrest your sight?
“His glory sounds with one accord
“From clay both shattered and aright.
”There rings no dissonance.”
Where faith is sight and Word is seen
All men and angels know this song
That fills creation’s symphony-
Its name, the purpose to the throng:
“The Glory of the Lord.”