1 THOU, Lord, Thyself, the Bright, the Morning Star
Wilt soon arise and chase our woes afar;
What gladness then, what bliss without a cloud,
Shall fill these hearts so oft with sorrow bowed!
2 Lord Jesus, shall we gaze upon Thy face ---
That face of perfect beauty, love and grace?
That blessed form, once nailed upon the tree,
Lord, shall these very eyes in glory see?
3 We shall, we shall! for Thou hast said it, Lord,
And faith rests ever on Thy changeless word:
"Behold, I come," "surely I quickly come;"
E'en so, Amen: oh, take Thy loved ones home!
4 Lord Jesus, come: the Spirit calls for Thee,
The bride desireth sore Thy face to see;
Lord Jesus, come: our hearts within us burn,
We hasten forth to greet Thy glad return.
