1 The flush of morn is on the mountains
To drive away the night of sin;
Lift up your heads, O hind'ring portals,
And let the King of Glory in!
He comes, he comes, the King of Glory,—
The light of life upon his brow.
Crown him ye nations, crown him! crown him!
The “King of kings,” behold him now.
2 The flush of morn is on the mountains,
And onward steals to farthest plain,
While valleys sing amid the dawning,—
“He comes whose right it is to reign!” [Refrain]
3 The desert flowers beneath his footstep,
And laughing waters leap to light,
The blind who sit in mourning midnight,
Receive from him eternal sight. [Refrain]
4 By all these signs the Conqueror cometh,
Tho’ powers of darkness strive to win;
Be lifted up, O gates, be lifted,
“The King of Glory shall come in.” [Refrain]
Source: Showers of Blessing #95