Lo, our king is surely coming,
Cry the sentinels today;
From their watch towers on the hilltops,
They are looking far away,
And they see the waving signals,
And they hear the measured tread
That shall soon arrest the living,
And awake the sleeping dead.
For our king is surely coming;
Angel hosts shall shout it then,
But His heralds He has chosen
From among the sons of men.
Let Him find you when He cometh,
At your humble daily toil;
At the sweeping of the kitchen,
Or the tilling of the soil;
Let Him find you by the wayside,
Helping on some stumbling child,
Let Him find you where the tempest
Spreads it devastation wild.
Let Him find you telling heathen
Of the unknown God they seek;
Let Him find you in the sick room,
Cheering up the faint and weak;
Let Him find you in the city,
Making straight the paths of youth,
Let Him find you in the pulpit,
Spreading forth the living truth.
But wherever He may find you,
Let it be with tender hand;
Guiding men to understanding
Of His precept and command.
For where’er our duty leads us,
Be it humble work or fine,
He will honor most the spirit
That shows forth His love divine.