Hark! the cry, Behold, He com­eth,
Hark! the cry, The Bride­groom’s near,
These are ac­cents fall­ing sweet­ly
On the ran­somed sin­ner’s ear.

Man may dis­be­lieve the tid­ings,
Or in an­ger turn away;
’Tis fore­told there shall be scoff­ers
Rising in the lat­ter day:

But He’ll come, the Lord from Hea­ven,
Not to suf­fer or to die;
But to take His wait­ing people
To their glo­ri­ous rest on high.

Happy they who stand ex­pect­ing
Christ, the Sav­ior, to ap­pear;
Sad for those who do not love Him,
Those who do not wish Him here.

But in mer­cy still He lin­gers,
Lengthening out the day of grace;
Till He comes, in­vit­ing sin­ners
To His wel­come, fond em­brace.