Don’t you see my Je­sus com­ing?
Don’t you see, in yon­der cloud?
With ten thou­sand an­gels round Him,
See how they my Je­sus crowd?

Don’t you see His arms ex­tend­ed?
Don’t you hear His charm­ing voice?
Each lov­ing heart beats high for glo­ry,
Oh! my Je­sus is my choice.

Don’t you see the saints as­cend­ing?
Hear them shout­ing through the air?
Jesus smil­ing, trum­pets sound­ing,
Now His glo­ry they shall share.

Don’t you see the hea­vens open?
And the saints in glo­ry there;
Shouts of tri­umph burst­ing round you,
Glory, glo­ry, glo­ry here.

Come back­slid­ers, tho’ you’ve pierced Him,
And have caused His Church to mourn;
Yet you may re­tain free par­don,
If you will to Him re­turn.

Now be­hold each lov­ing spi­rit,
Shout the praise of His dear name;
View the smiles of their dear Je­sus,
While His pre­sence feeds the flame.

There we’ll range the fields of plea­sure,
By our dear Re­deem­er’s side,
Shouting glo­ry, glo­ry, glo­ry,
While eter­nal ages glide.