In the glow of ear­ly morn­ing,
In the so­lemn hush of night;
Down from Hea­ven’s op­en por­tals,
Steals a mes­sen­ger of light,
Whispering sweet­ly to my spi­rit,
While the hosts of Hea­ven sing:
This the won­drous thrill­ing story:
Christ is com­ing—Christ my king.
This the won­drous thrill­ing story—
Christ is com­ing—Christ my king.

Oft me­thinks I hear His foot­steps,
Stealing down the paths of time;
And the fu­ture dark with sha­dows,
Brightens with this hope sub­lime.
Sound the soul in­spir­ing anthem;
Angel hosts, your harps at­tune;
Earth’s long night is al­most ov­er,
Christ is com­ing—com­ing soon.
Earth’s long night is al­most ov­er,
Christ is com­ing—com­ing soon.

Long we’ve wait­ed, blest Re­deem­er,
Waited for the first bright ray
Of the morn when sin and sor­row
At Thy pre­sence flee away;
But our vi­gil’s near­ly ov­er;
Hope of Heav’n, oh, price­less boon!
In the east the glow ap­pear­ing,
Christ is com­ing—com­ing soon.
In the east the glow ap­pear­ing,
Christ is com­ing—com­ing soon.