For years doom grows in our bleak chambers yeilding not For centuries of old deem risen impale my soul CHORUS May All Saints sing of your name May the wicked be slain by you May All Saints sing of your name Blessings come in the day of our Lord My grievance pleads alone from maelstrom to burial Beguiled by slumberers grave sojourn rook and dirge dwarfs us For years doom grows in our bleak chambers For years doom grows in our bleak chambers . . . . .
