The Gos­pel trum­pet sounds,
Let those that hear obey;
A king pre­pares a roy­al feast
For hun­gry souls to­day.
A king who sits en­throned
Where saints ador­ing stand,
And mul­ti­tudes of an­gels wait
On His di­vine com­mand.

The Gos­pel trum­pet sounds
In thrill­ing tones sub­lime;
The mes­sage of re­deem­ing love
To earth’s re­mot­est clime.
From yon­der rift­ed Rock,
Salvation’s ri­ver flows;
O come, and take the heav’n­ly gift
Our glo­ri­ous king be­stows.

He sends His her­alds forth,
And bids them in His name,
The rich pro­vi­sion of His grace
To each and all pro­claim.
Again the trum­pet sounds;
’Tis call­ing, call­ing still;
The feast is spread, and yet there’s room
Come, who­so­ev­er will.