When signs and won­ders there shall be
In sun, and moon, and stars;
When storms shall vex the roar­ing sea,
And hearts shall fail with fears;
When guilty na­tions shrink with fright.
And dread their hast­en­ing doom;
Then, robed in ma­jes­ty and might,
The Son of Man shall come.

Woe to the world, whose wail­ing throngs
Shall quake with sud­den fear;
Joy to the saints, whose thank­ful songs
Shall hail re­demp­tion near:
For them, with migh­ty trum­pet’s sound,
Angelic le­gions blest,
Shall fly to earth’s re­mot­est bound,
To bear them to their rest.

O watch, ye saints, with burn­ing lamps,
Until your Lord ap­pear;
The fig tree buds, the for­ests leave:
The sum­mer draw­eth near.
Blessèd are they who wait, and hope,
And trust the faith­ful word;
They sud­denly shall be caught up,
Forever with the Lord.