The day, the Gos­pel day draws near,
When sin­ners shall their voic­es raise,
Sing the new song with heart sin­cere,
Triumphant in the land of praise.

Glory to God! they all shall cry:
Who is so great a God as ours!
We have a ci­ty strong and high,
Salvation is for walls and tow­ers.

Salvation to our souls brought in,
Salvation from our guil­ty stains,
Salvation from the pow­er of sin,
Salvation from its last re­mains.

Secure from dan­ger, as from dread,
We ne­ver shall be put to shame,
Who hi­ther have for re­fuge fled;
For Je­sus is our ci­ty’s name.

Open the gates, and op­en wide,
Let ev­ery faith­ful soul go in;
Open for all the jus­ti­fied,
Who keep the truth that frees from sin.

Who hold the truth in right­eous­ness,
And hear their Lord’s com­mands, and do,
Into the ci­ty gates shall press,
And all in Christ be crea­tures new.

They who the will di­vine have done,
The pro­mise shall thro’ grace re­ceive,
And gain their call­ing’s glo­ri­ous crown,
And free from sin in Je­sus live.

Yes, Lord, Thy Word for ev­er stands,
And shall from age to age en­dure,
To us who own Thy mild com­mands,
To work­ing faith the Word is sure.

Who Thee re­mem­bers in Thy ways,
And fol­lows after ho­li­ness,
Because on Thee his mind he stays,
Him Thou wilt keep in per­fect peace.

Who trust to be re­deemed from sin,
And all Thy ho­ly will to prove,
Thy op­en arms shall take him in,
And root and stab­lish him in love.

Trust in the Lord, ye sons of men,
The Lord Almigh­ty to re­deem,
Your faith in Him shall not be vain,
He saves who­ev­er trust in Him.

His sav­ing pow­er no lim­its knows,
In strength and good­ness in­fi­nite,
Satan and sin His arm o’er­throws,
And bruis­es them be­neath our feet.

He brings them down who dwell on high,
Humbles each vain as­pir­ing boast,
Bulwarks and tow­ers, that threat the sky,
He fells, and le­vels with the dust.

He lays the lof­ty ci­ty low,
O’erturns, and brings it to the ground;
His hands de­stroy the in­bred foe,
And all the strength of sin con­found.

That haugh­ty Ba­by­lon within
Shall to be­liev­ing souls sub­mit;
They shall not alw­ays strive with sin,
But tread it down be­neath their feet.

Satan’s strong­holds o’er­thrown shall be,
The poor shall on their ru­ins tread,
Lead cap­tive their cap­ti­vi­ty,
From all their sins for ev­er freed.

This is the tri­umph of the just,
Whoe’er on Thee their spir­it stay,
Shall find the God in whom they trust;
Perfection is their shin­ing way.

Most ho­ly, pure, and per­fect Thou,
Just of Thy­self, and good alone,
Dost all Thy child­ren’s paths al­low,
When cleansed, and sanc­ti­fied in One.