The clouds of judg­ment ga­ther,
The time is grow­ing late;
Be so­ber and be watch­ful;
Our Judge is at the gate:
The Judge who comes in mer­cy,
The Judge who comes in might
To put an end to ev­il
And di­adem the right.

Arise, O true dis­ci­ples,
Let wrong give way to right,
And pe­ni­ten­tial sha­dow
To Je­sus’ bless­èd light:
The light that has no ev­en­ing,
That knows no moon or sun,
The light so new and gold­en,
The light that is but one.

The home of fade­less splen­dor,
Of blooms that bear no thorn,
Where they shall dwell as child­ren
Who here as ex­iles mourn;
The peace of all the faith­ful,
The calm of all the blest,
Inviolate, un­fad­ing,
Divinest, sweet­est, best.

Oh, hap­py, ho­ly por­tion,
Relief for all dis­tressed,
True vi­sion of true beau­ty,
Refreshment for the blest!
Strive now to win that glo­ry;
Toil now to gain that light;
Send hope ahead to grasp it,
Till hope be lost in sight.