LONGING FOR CHRIST’S APPEARING.
By N. W. Vincent
Come, dear Saviour, come in glory,
Take thy wearied servants home;
We would bow in love before thee,
We would greet the loved ones gone.
We have waited long in sorrow,
We have toiled and struggled long;
Speed the bright, the joyful morrow,
Haste the victor’s shout and song. Earth beneath the curse yet moaneth;
Plagues abound, death, misery.
List, the whole creation groaneth;
Let it thy salvation see!
Nations all with fear are quaking,
From the dungeons to the throne;
Rise, O God, the heavens shaking,
Take the kingdom for thine own. Sound the trump of solemn warning,
Let thy shout the saints awake;
Clad in robes of bright adorning,
To thyself thy loved ones take.
Now prepare thy saints to meet thee,
Help us each to do thy will;
Then with joy we soon shall greet thee,
With the saints on Zion’s hill.