Scripture Verse

He which testifieth these things saith, Surely I come quickly. Amen. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. Revelation 22:20


Horatius Bonar (1808–1889)

Words: Ho­ra­ti­us Bo­nar, Hymns of Faith and Hope, se­cond ser­ies (Lon­don: James Nis­bet, 1861), pag­es 91–94, alt.

Music: Ado­ra­tion (Doane) W. How­ard Doane, 1883 (🔊 pdf nwc).

W. Howard Doane (1832–1915)


He is com­ing, and the tid­ings
Now are roll­ing wide and far,
As the light flows out in glad­ness,
From yon bright and morn­ing-star.

He is com­ing; and the tid­ings
Sweep through­out the will­ing air,
With the hope that ends for­ev­er
Time’s dark ages of des­pair.

See the earth from dreams and slum­ber
Rouse it­self to say, Amen;
Land and ocean bid Him wel­come,
Flood and for­est join the strain.

He is com­ing, and the mount­ains
Of Judea ring again;
See Je­ru­sa­lem awak­en,
Rise and shout her glad Am­en.

He is com­ing; wastes of Hor­eb,
Now awak­en and re­joice!
Hills of Mo­ab, cliffs of Ed­om,
Lift the too long si­lent voice!

He is com­ing, sea of So­dom,
Come to heal thy lep­rous brine,
To re­turn thy palm and myr­tle,
Olive’s fruit and joy­ous vine.

He is com­ing, blight­ed Car­mel,
To re­store thy ol­ive bow­ers;
He is com­ing, fad­ed Sha­ron,
To give back thee all thy flow­ers.

Sons of Gen­tile-trod­den Ju­dah,
Waken and be­hold: He comes!
Long so land­less, king­less ex­iles,
Go and seek your long lost homes.

Back to deep and an­cient val­leys
Which your fa­thers loved so well,
In their now long crum­bled ci­ties
Let their child­ren’s child­ren dwell.

Drain the last drop of the worm­wood
From your na­tion’s bit­ter cup;
’Tis the bit­ter­est, but the lat­est,
Now make haste and drink it up.

For He comes, thy true Mes­si­ah,
Thine an­oint­ed roy­al king;
See Him come, in love and glo­ry:
For thee end­less joy He brings.

Yes, thy migh­ty king is com­ing,
Putting end to woes and wrongs;
Giving joy in place of mourn­ing,
Turning all thy sighs to songs.

Now are dried the tears of ag­es:
Now you wear, as once of old,
Heav’nly dia­dem of beau­ty,
Precious crown of pur­est gold.

He has lift­ed thee from sad­ness,
Set thee on the high­est throne,
As Mes­si­ah’s chosen na­tion,
Blessèd, best be­lov­èd one.

Wipe the stain and dust of ex­ile
From thy worn and wea­ry feet;
Come with songs of glo­ri­ous tri­umph,
Come thy Sav­ior now to greet.