Trumpet Hour

Like unto the hour a trumpet sings,

Through the air a holy song it rings.

On eagle’s wings alone it soars,

Through haven we adore.

In our last hour we listen for its ring,

So that we know were going home to sing.

For the choir high and low,

We listen to the trumpets blow

On and on we want to hear,

The voice of the Lord we hold so dear.

On and on we keep wishing,

That we could be in heaven fishing.

The bass like angels high and low,

Don’t fall for the lure that Satan throws.