When Je­sus came to earth of old,
He came in weak­ness and woe;
He wore no form of an­gel mold,
But took our na­ture poor and low.

But when He com­eth back once more,
There shall be set the great white throne,
And earth and Heav’n shall flee be­fore
The face of Him that sits there­on.

O Son of God, in glo­ry crowned,
The Judge or­dained of quick and dead;
O Son of Man, so pi­ty­ing found,
For all the tears Thy peo­ple shed,

Be with us in this dark­ened place,
This wea­ry, rest­less dan­ger­ous night;
And teach, O teach us by Thy grace,
To strug­gle on­ward in­to light.

And since, in God’s re­cord­ing book,
Our sins are writ­ten, ev­ery one,
The crime, the wrath, the wan­der­ing look,
The good we knew, and left un­done.

Lord, ere the last dread trump be heard,
And ere be­fore Thy face we stand,
Look Thou on each ac­cus­ing word,
And blot it with Thy bleed­ing hand.

And by the love that brought Thee here,
And by the cross, and by the grave,
Give per­fect love for con­scious fear,
And in the day of judg­ment save.

And lead us on while here we stray,
And make us love our heav’n­ly home,
Till from our hearts we love to say,
Even so, Lord Je­sus, quick­ly come.