I am wait­ing for Thy com­ing
To this swept and gar­nished heart,
Thou hast cast away its id­ols,
Thou art cleans­ing ev­ery part;
I am rest­ing on Thy pro­mise,
Fears and doubt­ings are all still;
But I’m long­ing for Thy com­ing,
All its emp­ti­ness to fill.

I am wait­ing for Thy com­ing,
Blessèd Pre­sence from above,
For the fire from off Thine al­tar,
Thine abound­ing grace and love;
Faith’s clasp is all too chill­ing,
Though sure its guer­don be,
For a con­scious touch I’m long­ing,
O Sav­ior dear, of Thee.

I am wait­ing for Thy com­ing,
But I dare not cross Thy will,
In the twi­light of Thine ab­sence
I hold me cal­mly still;
As Thou will­est in Thy wis­dom,
When Thou will­est in Thy might,
Thou wilt come, and ev­ery sha­dow
Be al­to­ge­ther light.

I am wait­ing for Thy com­ing;
Not Thy choic­est gifts, but Thee,
For the lov­ing heart cares on­ly
Its be­lov­èd One to see.
I list not for their harp-strings,
Nor for an­gel cho­rals pine;
No voice can still my yearn­ings,
O bless­èd Lord, save Thine.

I have wait­ed for Thy com­ing,
But my wait­ing was not long,
Lo! twi­light turns to sun­shine,
And my plaint be­comes a song.
Thou hast filled Thy wait­ing tem­ple,
Thy glo­ri­ous face I see,
And earth is turned to Hea­ven,
Since Thou art come to me.