Oh, Fair the Gleams of Glory

Oh

fair the gleams of glo­ry

And bright the scenes of mirth

That light­en hu­man sto­ry

And cheer this wea­ry earth;

But rich­er far our trea­sure

With whom the Spir­it dwells

Ours

ours in heav’n­ly mea­sure

The glo­ry that ex­cels.

The lamp­light faint­ly gleam­eth

Where shines the noon­day ray;

From Je­sus’ face there beam­eth

Light of a se­ven­fold day;

And earth’s pale lights

all fad­ed

The Light from Heav’n dis­pels;

But shines for aye un­shad­ed

The glo­ry that ex­cels.

No brok­en cis­terns need they

Who drink from liv­ing rills;

No oth­er mu­sic heed they

Whom God’s own mu­sic thrills.

Earth’s pre­cious things are taste­less

Its bois­ter­ous mirth re­pels

Where flows in mea­sure waste­less

The glo­ry that ex­cels.

Since on our life des­cend­ed

Those beams of light and love

Our steps have heav’n­ward tend­ed

Our eyes have looked ab­ove

Till through the clouds con­ceal­ing

The home where glo­ry dwells

Our Je­sus comes re­veal­ing

The glo­ry that ex­cels.