In pa­tient faith, till Christ shall come
To call His du­te­ous ser­vants home,
Our hearts and minds we keep;
Still look­ing for that glo­ri­ous day
When heav’n and earth shall melt away
And saints awake from sleep.

And signs there be, in this late time,
Once more of hopes re­viv­ing prime,
As in re­demp­tion’s morn;
The fe­ver­ish earth doth shake again,
Groaning and tra­vail­ing in pain,
Till some new change be born.

With no un­heed­ful hearts we hear
The mut­ter­ings of con­vul­sion near,
And ter­ror soon to be.
Hosts ga­ther­ing for the fi­nal strife
Of light and dark­ness, death and life,
With breath­less awe we see.

We know that fear­ful dark­ness soon
Shall veil the face of sun and moon,
The stars for­sake their spheres;
The pow­ers of heav’n, with fear aghast,
They trem­ble, quake, un­til at last
Christ’s sign in heav’n ap­pears.

Then earth’s re­bel­lious tribes shall wail,
And sin­ful hearts with ter­ror fail:
While saints, des­pised so long,
From east and west, and south and north,
By an­gel trum­pets sum­moned forth—
Raise one tri­um­phant song.