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.

Refrain

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.

Refrain

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.

Refrain

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.

Refrain