SONS OF MICHAEL.

A CHORUS FOR THE LATTER TIMES.

"And the ancient of days did sit, whose garment was white as snow, and the hair of his head like the pure wool; his throne was like the fiery flame, and his wheels as burning fire. A fiery stream issued and came forth from before him, thousands thousands ministered unto him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him." (DANIEL vii. 9, 10.)

Sons of Michael, he approaches!

Rise; the Eternal Father greet:

Bow, ye thousands, low before him;

Minister before his feet:

Hail the Patriarch's glad reign,

'Stablished now o'er sea and main!

Sons of Michael, 'Tis his chariot

Rolls is burning wheels along!

Raise aloft your voices million

In a torrent power of song:

Hail our head with music soft!

Raise sweet melodies aloft!

Mother of our generations!

Glorious by great Michael's side;

take thy children's adoration;

Endless, with thy Lord preside:

Lo, to greet thee now advance

Thousands in the joyous dance!

Raise a chorus, sons of Michael,

Like old Ocean's roarings swell,

Till the mighty acclamation

Through rebounding space doth tell

That the Ancient One doth reign

In his paradise again!