Through the ag­es saints have won­dered
When the pro­mised day will be,
When in pow­er and bright­est glo­ry
Our re­turn­ing Lord we’ll see;
Searching the Scrip­ture
For signs of the times:
Plague, earth­quake, fa­mine,
False Christs and shrines;
War and com­mo­tion,
And signs in the sky;
So lift up your heads,
Redemption then is nigh!

But the scof­fers mock the pro­mise,
Walking in their lust and pride,
Saying, Where, then, is your sav­ior?
Nothing changes—he has lied.
Prophecy fails not!
He knew they would speak
Against His Word,
Deceiving the weak.
Yes, we know Je­sus
Is faith­ful and true,
Preparing our man­sion,
Making all things new.

At the time ap­point­ed, an­gels
Will the sil­ver trumpet peal;
In the hea­vens shall the na­tions
See the Son of Man re­vealed.
Tombs, graves and oceans,
Relinquish their hold—
Saints from the four winds,
Now crowned with gold;
Those mak­ing mer­ry,
Now shak­ing with dread,
For He has re­turned to
Judge the quick and dead.

But we know not of the hour,
When His pro­mise He will keep;
Therefore must we keep awatch­ing,
Lest our Lord find us asleep.
For all will see Him,
With scales and a sword,
Dispensing jus­tice,
Sure as His Word;
Prepare to meet Him,
With lamp in your hand,
The Bride­groom is com­ing—
Rise and greet the Lamb!