Yonder, see the Lord descending,
Hark! His chariot’s drawing near;
Starry worlds before Him rending,
Flaming troops do now appear.
Heaven shaking, earth is quaking,
Mountains fly before His face,
See the dead their graves forsaking,
Nature sinking in a blaze.
Now behold the shining conquerors,
Rising from their dusty beds,
Fly to meet their blessèd Savior,
Glittering crowns upon their heads;
Hear them tell their pleasing story
To their smiling, lovely king,
Glory, glory, glory, glory,
Glory is the song they sing.
Once an infant in a manger,
There the Lord of glory lay;
No place for that little stranger
But upon the oxen’s hay;
Now He’s crownèd with a rainbow
Brighter than a sardius stone;
Now He comes—the Christian sees Him
Seated on His great white throne.