When through the whirl
Of wheels, and en­gines hum­ming,
Patiently pow­er­ful
For the sons of men,
Peals like a trum­pet
Promise of His com­ing,
Who in the clouds is pledged
To come again.

When through the night
The fur­nace fires aflar­ing,
Shooting out tongues
Of flame like leap­ing blood,
Speak to the heart
Of love, alive, and dar­ing,
Sing of the bound­less
Energy of God.

When in the depths
The pa­tient min­er striv­ing
Feels in his arms
The vi­gor of the Lord,
Strikes for a king­dom
And his king’s ar­riv­ing,
Holding his pick more
Splendid than the sword.

When on the sweat
Of la­bor and its sor­row,
Toiling in twi­light
Flickering and dim,
Flames out the sun­shine
Of the great to­mor­row,
When all the world
Looks up be­cause of Him.

Then will He come
With meek­ness for His glo­ry,
God in a work­man’s
Jacket as be­fore,
Living again
Th’eter­nal Gos­pel sto­ry,
Sweeping the shav­ings
From His work­shop floor.