WHEN THE SON OF MAN COMETH, SHALL HE FIND FAITH ON THE EARTH?
We are waiting for thee in thy kingdom to come,
To gather the exiles that long for their home.
In the wilderness, scattered, down trodden, oppressed,
With hope long deferred, we are sighing for rest. O come, for the weary are looking for thee;
The captive is mourning in chains to be free;
The grief of our burden no stranger shall share,
And the call of the pris'ner is dark with despair. Thy poor and afflicted, thy suffering and tried,
Still deep in the furnace, unransomed, abide;
While want and disease and oppression is here;
And the wail of the dying is smothered in fear. With the weight of the curse, and transgression, and wrong,
Creation now groans, and her travail is long,
Till her agonized bosom uncovers her slain,
And thy hand shall restore her unspotted again. Day and night shall the cry of the desolate rise
In the ear of the Highest, who will not despise—
Till Jesus, our king in his kingdom shall come,
And his will on the earth, as in heaven, be done.
—[C. S. M.