The King is com­ing in glo­ry
To catch His bride away,
It may be in the morn­ing
It may be at mid­day,
At the ev­en or mid­night;
The trump will sound so clear,
The dead in Christ, and we that live,
His voice shall hear.

Refrain

The King is com­ing, hal­le­lu­jah!
He’s com­ing in the air,
The fig tree is bud­ding,
The signs are ev­ery­where,
The King is com­ing, hal­le­lu­jah!
He’s com­ing in the air,
He’s com­ing, hal­le­lu­jah!
To catch His bride away.

Behold! He com­eth, and leap­ing,
And skip­ping o’er the hills;
Like the young roe, like the young hart,
My soul with rap­ture thrills;
Thru the win­dow He’s look­ing,
Thru the lat­tice work is seen,
The win­ter’s past, the rain is o’er,
The figs are green.

Refrain

The King is com­ing,
Be rea­dy, To meet Him on that day;
With your heart right, with your robes white,
And in this ho­ly way;
Like the light­ning that flash­es
In the twink­ling of an eye,
Our Lord shall come to claim His own,
He’s draw­ing nigh.

The saints are look­ing ev­er up­ward
While journ’ing on their way.
He’s com­ing, hal­le­lu­jah!
To catch His bride away.
The saints are look­ing ev­er up­ward
While journ’ing on their way.
He’s com­ing, hal­le­lu­jah!
To catch His bride away.