‘Twas brother’s peace with brother for
One hundred fifty years
Then brother smote his brother for
Two centuries of fear.

Three score of sad rebellion
Three score of hate and ire
Three score of living hell, then
Awoke His watchful Eye!

For twenty years we faltered
For twenty years we hid
And then He sent his Prophet:
Our speaker, Littlemead!

Oh Lo! We were not faithful!
Oh Lo! They did not heed!
He pulled his cloak about Him
Oh Lo! How he did Weep!

Three Gatherings we wandered
To seek his gracious eye
Dispatched to gather faithful
Across the starless skies.

A Gathering we struggled
A Gathering we cried.
Each Gathering he shows us:
Salvation Day is nigh!

Oh weak were we to flee that Face
And weak were we to fear
For through our sin he closed His eye
And shed His awful tears.

So now we wait in endless toil
For gifts and grace He sends
And when His angels cross our doors
We’ll know we’ve made amends.

Arise! And leave no stone unturned!
Arise! And plow each field!
Arise! Believe! That all who yearn
Will see His Face revealed!

We fled in fear His awful Gaze
But with His Earthly Eye
He sees, He knows, He sends His Grace
Across all starry skies.

So shoulder all your burdens!
For when your time is done
Revealed at last! His angels
Will make all Churches one!