When the King comes back
From the far-off land,
And the trum­pet sounds to meet Him;
Oh! the joy that thrills
Through the rap­tured band
Of the saints, as they rise to greet Him.

When the morn­ing breaks
On the hills of time,
And the sha­dows all are flee­ing;
And the Bride awakes
To the mar­riage chime,
And her faith is turned to see­ing.

When the fight is o’er,
And the vic­to­ry won,
And van­quished foe is fly­ing;
And the Cap­tain calls
Us ev­ery one
To the crown of life un­dy­ing.

When the curse rolls away
As He comes to reign,
And the heav’ns and the earth ad­ore Him,
Whose ran­som He paid,
And be­holds them again
His own fair world be­fore Him.

Oh! hast­en, Lord,
That hap­py, hap­py day,
And the king­dom of Thy glo­ry;
For our spir­its burn
As we muse on Thy re­turn
In the sweet, sweet Gos­pel sto­ry.

Oh! we long to see
Thee face to face,
Where faith no long­er abid­eth;
Oh! we long to be­hold
Thy full beau­ty and grace,
Where the vi­sion ne­ver fad­eth.

Oh! we long for the hour
When Thy blood-bought pow­er,
Shall bring Thy full sal­va­tion;
And the earth re­sound
To her ut­most bound
With the song of the new cre­ation.

All bless­ing, glo­ry,
And hon­or be,
And praise that ceas­eth ne­ver,
To Him that sits
Upon the throne,
And to the Lamb for ev­er.