Looking for our Lord and Sav­ior,
Coming on the clouds of Heav’n,
Clad in pow­er and shin­ing glo­ry,
Come to end the reign of sin.
Long fore­told by pro­phets, seers:
First the tri­bu­la­tion ends,
Then the sun and moon will dark­en,
And the stars shall fall from Heav’n.

All the hea­vens’ pow­ers are shak­en,
And ap­pears the sign on high,
That the Son of Man, re­turn­ing,
Once again to earth draws nigh.
All the tribes of earth now mourn­ing,
As they hear the trum­pet blast,
And they look on Him they pierc­èd,
Weeping bit­ter tears at last.

First He sends His reap­er an­gels
To up­root and bind the weeds,
Set in bun­dles for the fur­nace,
As be­fits their ev­il deeds.
Sown by Sa­tan’s ev­il mal­ice,
Children of the wick­ed one,
They refused to bend the knee,
And to bow to God’s own Son.

Then shall all the righ­teous shine forth
In their Fa­ther’s king­dom grand;
See them gathered from the four winds
And the earth’s re­mot­est land,
His elect from ev­ery na­tion,
All the saints Heav’n’s bor­ders hold,
All the child­ren of the king­dom,
Gathered to the Shep­herd’s fold.

So He se­vers just from wick­ed,
Rebels casts in­to the fire;
From the fur­nace hear the wail­ing,
Gnashing teeth upon the pyre.
All with ears, now hear the les­son:
Day and hour, no one knows;
So be rea­dy for the har­vest,
Be the wheat that gold­en grows.