Christina Rossetti - All Saints lyrics

They are flocking from the East And the West, They are flocking from the North And the South, Every moment setting forth From realm of snake or lion, Swamp or sand, Ice or burning; Greatest and least, Palm in hand And praise in mouth, They are flocking up the path To their rest, Up the path that hath No returning. Up the steeps of Zion They are mounting, Coming, coming, Throngs beyond man's counting; With a sound Like innumerable bees Swarming, humming Where flowering trees Many-tinted, Many-scented, All alike abound With honey,-- With a swell Like a blast upswaying unrestrainable From a shadowed dell To the hill-tops sunny,-- With a thunder Like the ocean when in strength Breadth and length It sets to shore; More and more Waves on waves redoubled pour Leaping flashing to the shore (Unlike the under Drain of ebb that loseth ground For all its roar.) They are thronging From the East and West, From the North and South, Saints are thronging, loving, longing, To their land Of rest, Palm in hand And praise in mouth.