When the hearts we fond­ly cher­ish,
From our home are far away,
For the ab­sent ones re­turn­ing,
How we long, and watch, and pray.
How we look to see them com­ing,
When the moon is on the hill;
And the lone­ly star of mid­night
Finds us watch­ing, pray­ing still.

Yes, we look for their re­turn­ing,
Till our ach­ing eyes grow dim;
But the Mas­ter too is com­ing;
Are we watch­ing now for Him?
O the sleep­less, anx­ious mo­ments
That for oth­ers oft we spend,
Tho’ we fail to heed the coun­sel
Of our kind­est, dear­est friend.

Place the watch lamp in the win­dow,
Let its rays burn bright and clear,
Lest the Bride­groom should sur­prise us,
For His com­ing may be near;
Watch, and be ye al­so rea­dy,
Were His part­ing words to all;
He may come at ear­ly dawn­ing,
Or when ev­en­ing sha­dows fall.