Christ the Lord will come again,
None shall wait for Him in vain;
I shall then His glo­ry see,
Christ will come, and call for me.
Not as when His hum­ble birth
Graced the mean­est place on earth;
Not as when His ten­der heart
Bled with sym­pa­the­tic smart.

Not as when for us He stood
Surety to an in­jured God;
Not as when our sins He bore,
Gashed with wounds, and bathed in gore;
But with trum­pet’s aw­ful sound,
With im­mor­tal glo­ry crowned;
On a bright ce­les­ti­al throne,
Our Re­deem­er will come down.

Then, when His al­migh­ty voice
Shakes the earth, and rends the skies,
Rising mill­ions will pro­claim
Our Em­man­u­el’s glor­ious name.
This is our re­deem­ing God!
Ransomed hosts will shout aloud;
Praise, eter­nal praise, be giv’n,
To the Lord of earth and Heav’n!

Oh, that I may then be found,
With them, ris­ing from the ground!
Joining their im­mor­tal song,
With a new ce­les­ti­al tongue!
Let us own the Sav­ior’s name,
Where the wicked count it shame;
Then the righ­teous Judge will own
Ours be­fore His Fa­ther’s throne.