1 How long shall death, the tyrant reign,
And triumph o'er the just,
While the rich blood of martyrs slain
Lies mingled with the dust?
2 When shall the tedious night be gone?
When will our Lord appear?
Our fond desires would pray him down,
Our love embrace him here,
3 Let faith arise, and climb the hills,
And from afar descry
How distant are his chariot wheels,
And tell how fast they fly.
4 Lo, I behold the scattering shades,
The dawn of Heaven appears,
The sweet immortal morning spreads
Its blushes round the spheres,
5 I see the Lord of glory come,
And flaming guards around!
The skies divide to make him room,
The trumpet shakes the ground.
6 I hear the voice! "Ye dead arise;"
And lo, the graves obey,
And waking saints with joyful eyes
Salute th' expected day.
7 They leave the dust, and on the wing
Rise to the middle air,
In shining garments meet their King,
And low adore him there.
8 O may my humble spirit stand
Amongst them clothed in white!
The meanest place at his right hand
Is infinite delight.
9 How will our joy and wonder rise,
When our returning King
Shall bear us homeward through the skies
On love's triumphant wing!
The Christian's duty, exhibited in a series of hymns, 1791