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 will 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 Heav'n 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 straight the graves obey,
And waking Saints with joyful eyes
Salute the expected day.
7 They leave the ground, and on the wing
Rais'd to the middle air,
In shining garments meet their King,
And lo adore him there.
8 O may my humble spirit stand
Amongst them clothed in white:
The meanest place at thy right hand
Is infinite delight.
9 How will our joy and wonder rise,
When our returning King,
Shall bear us homeward thro' the skies
On love's triumphant wing!
Text Information | |
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First Line: | How long shall Death the Tyrant reign |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1801 |