to the shine we must go
to the shine we must go
dead yet alive, to the shine we must go!

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The fields of glory, they watch the sun rise on their crest.
They look east and wonder what life holds for them at best.
When the birds begin their singing and the light fills up the sky
Then the stalks begin the swaying, from the dance they do not shy.

What tidings are to follow, what shall purpose define
In the midst of everything, what shall stand and shine?

Time will pass and time will pass, all ages drying up
But the fields, yes in their glory, will always fill the cup.