He ex­pect­eth, He ex­pect­eth!
Down the stream of time,
Still the words come soft­ly ring­ing,
Like a chime.

Oft times faint, now wax­ing loud­er
As the hour draws near,
When the King in all His glo­ry,
Shall ap­pear.

He is wait­ing with long pa­tience
For His crown­ing day,
For that king­dom which shall ne­ver
Pass away.

And till ev’ry tribe and na­tion
Bow be­fore His throne,
He ex­pect­eth loy­al ser­vice
From His own.

He ex­pect­eth—but He hear­eth
Still the bit­ter cry
From earth’s mill­ions, Come and help us,
For we die.

He ex­pect­eth—doth He see us
Busy here and there,
Heedless of those plead­ing ac­cents
Of des­pair?

Shall we—dare we—dis­ap­point Him?
Brethren, let us rise!
He who died for us is watch­ing
From the skies.

Watching till His roy­al ban­ner
Floateth far and wide,
Till He seeth of His tra­vail
Satisfied!