Ere Eden blossomed wild,
Or earth received a form,
Ere the Eternal voice
Called sunshine from the storm;
Ere on chaotic deep
The empire of old night--
God looked, and tumult fled,
God spake, and all was Light;
Music, first born of heaven,
Left not her natal bower,
'Till Ages' chronicler
Proclaimed Creation's hour;
The strain of harmony
The depths had never heard,
There Silence reared her throne,
Till Light and Song appeared. Then in their choral spheres
Rejoicing planets ran,
Then, sovereign of the world,
Arose immortal Man!
Then heard the Star of Morn,
Along the wavy air,
Soft strains of Music float
That Seraphim might share;
Unearthly was the sound,
It spake to raptured sight;
And subtle sense received
The Melody of Light. Sweet was the dulcet strain,
Loud the ascending song,
That o'er the eternal plain
Mellifluous rolled along;
And, say! When Deity
Alone sublimely stood,
And blest a virgin world
And called his labour "good"--
Broke not forth brighter rays
Of glory, o'er the whole?
Say, woke not He a chord
Of Music, to the soul! Ages passed by, and He,
The Paschal Lamb was slain;
Death held not Deity,
Immanuel rose again;
Now o'er the darksome tomb,
The couch on which He lay,
Lo, Resurrection pours
Floods of undying Day;
Say! Is not Music there
Where Light and Life are shed?
Yes! And mankind shall share
Those strains, when worlds have fled.