I am wait­ing for the dawn­ing
Of that ra­di­ant gold­en day,
When be­fore His king­ly splen­dor,
All the mists shall fade away.
For the morn­ing that shall bring,
Borne aloft on an­gels’ wing,
In a cloud of glo­ry seat­ed,
Christ, my glo­ri­ous, com­ing king.
For the morn­ing that shall bring,
Borne aloft on an­gels’ wing,
In a cloud of glo­ry seat­ed,
Christ, my glo­ri­ous, com­ing king.

I am long­ing now to meet Him,
To hear His wel­come voice
When His chos­en ones shall greet Him,
While the mar­tyred saints re­joice.
Then the trum­pet sound shall ring!
And the hosts an­gel­ic sing!
O! with rap­ture I shall meet Him,
Christ, my glo­ri­ous com­ing king.
Then the trum­pet sound shall ring!
And the hosts an­gel­ic sing!
O! with rap­ture I shall meet Him,
Christ, my glo­ri­ous com­ing king.

Soon I hope to hear the sum­mons
To call the ran­somed home.
And I watch and wait the mes­sage
That shall tell my Lord has come.
Then, caught up to met my king
With the ran­somed ones I’ll sing
Praises to the Lamb vic­to­ri­ous,
Christ my glo­ri­ous Lord and king.
Then, caught up to met my king
With the ran­somed ones I’ll sing
Praises to the Lamb vic­to­ri­ous,
Christ my glo­ri­ous Lord and king.