THE KING IN HIS BEAUTY.
By R. F. Cottrell
[Republished by request.] The King in his beauty is coming, ere long,
Prepare ye, prepare ye to meet him!
To share in his glory, and sing the “new song”—
Who, who will thus joyously greet him?
Then wake thee! and haste to arise,
Already the day-star is beaming!
Let slumber depart from thine eyes—
No time now for indolent dreaming.
Oh! get ready!
The King in his beauty to see! He comes not an infant in Bethlehem born,
He comes not to lie in a manger;
He comes not again to be treated with scorn,
He comes not a shelterless stranger;
He comes not to Gethsemane,
To weep and sweat blood in the garden;
He comes not to die on the tree,
To purchase for rebels a pardon.
Oh, no! glory,
Bright glory, environs him now! With chariots celestial behold him descend,
With glory ineffable beaming!
And all the blest angels around him attend,
In Heaven’s bright panoply gleaming.
The trumpet of God sounds, Arise!
They wake from the short dreamless slumber,
And straightway mount up to the skies,
A multitude no man can number.
Shouts of Glory!
And Victory! now fill the air. And now, safely standing upon the glass sea,
They form the triumphal procession;
To celebrate duly the grand jubilee,
Of captives now freed from oppression.
Then, Lift up your heads, O ye gates!
The King in his glory will enter;
His army victorious awaits
Fair Zion’s redeemed to present her.
Ope, ye portals!
The King in his glory comes in! Earth’s captives now rescued will sorrow no more,
Nor hunger nor thirst shall annoy them;
No pain shall afflict them, their sufferings are o’er,
No sickness nor death shall destroy them,
But freed from mortality’s woes
Eternity opens before them;
Its pleasures are never to close—
God’s glory forever beams o’er them.
Glory! Glory!
The King in his beauty is there!