There’s a light up­on the mount­ains,
And the day is at the spring,
When our eyes shall see the beau­ty
And the glo­ry of the King:
Weary was our heart with wait­ing,
And the night watch seemed so long,
But His tri­umph day is break­ing
And we hail it with a song.

In the fad­ing of the star­light
We may see the com­ing morn;
And the lights of men are pal­ing
In the splen­dors of the dawn;
For the east­ern skies are glow­ing
As with light of hid­den fire,
And the hearts of men are stir­ring
With the throbs of deep de­sire.

There’s a hush of ex­pec­ta­tion
And a qui­et in the air
And the breath of God is mov­ing
In the fer­vent breath of pray­er;
For the suf­fer­ing, dy­ing Je­sus
Is the Christ up­on the throne,
And the tra­vail of our spi­rit
Is the tra­vail of His own.

He is break­ing down the bar­ri­ers,
He is cast­ing up the way;
He is call­ing for His an­gels
To build up the gates of day:
But His an­gels here are hu­man,
Not the shin­ing hosts above;
For the drum beats of His army
Are the heart­beats of our love.

Hark! we hear a dis­tant music
And it comes with full­er swell;
’Tis the tri­umph song of Je­sus,
Of our king, Im­ma­nu­el!
Go ye forth with joy to meet Him!
And, my soul, be swift to bring
All thy sweet­est and thy dear­est
For the tri­umph of our king!