Only wait­ing till the sha­dows
Are a lit­tle long­er grown;
Only wait­ing till the glim­mer
Of the day’s last beam is flown;
Till the night of death is fad­ed
From the heart once full of day;
Till the stars of heav’n are break­ing
Thro’ the twi­light soft and gray.

Only wait­ing till the reap­ers
Have the last sheaf ga­thered home;
For the sum­mer­time has fad­ed
And the au­tumn winds have come.
Quickly, reap­ers! ga­ther quick­ly,
All the ripe hours of my heart;
For the bloom of life has wi­thered,
And I has­ten to de­part.

Only wait­ing till the an­gels
Open wide the pear­ly gate,
At whose por­tals long I’ve lin­gered
Weary, poor and de­so­late:
Even now I hear their foots­teps,
And their voic­es far away;
If they call me, I am wait­ing,
Only wait­ing to ob­ey.

Waiting for a bright­er dwell­ing
Than I ev­er yet have seen,
Where the tree of life is bloom­ing,
And the fields are ev­er green:
Waiting for my full re­demp­tion,
When my Sav­ior shall re­store,
All that sin has caused to wi­ther;
Age and sor­row come no more.