IT draweth near! That day,—of days the day,— For which the Bridegroom waits, For which the virgins pray; For which earth sighs, and hastes To greet it on its way; Asking, as on it comes, Why this so long delay? It draweth near at last! Who shall its advent stay? It hastes to
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A Few more years shall roll, A few more seasons come, And we shall lie with them that rest Asleep within the tomb. Then, O my Lord, prepare My soul for that great day; Oh, wash me in Thy precious blood, And take my sins away. A few more suns shall set O’er these
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’TIS first the true and then the beautiful, Not first the beautiful and then the true; First the wild moor, with rock and reed and pool, Then the gay garden, rich in scent and hue. ’Tis first the good and then the beautiful,— Not first the beautiful and then the good; First the rough
OH, bright will be the waking— The resurrection dawn! The day will soon be breaking, And Christ, His kingdom taking, Will usher in the morn. Oh, sweet the rays we borrow Beforehand from the Light! A few bright hours of sorrow, “Joy Cometh on the morrow:” “Far spent is now the night.” Oh,
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BY THE REV. HORATIUS BONAR, D.D., KELSO. 1854 “Ye are all the children of THE DAY.”—1 THESS. 5:5. Will it ne’er be morning? Will the promised light Ne’er break and clear these clouds of night? Sweet Phosphor, bring the day, Whose conquering ray May chase the fogs; sweet Phosphor, bring the day! Thy light will fray
COME, Lord, and tarry not; Bring the long-looked-for day: Oh, why these years of waiting here, These ages of delay! Come, for Creation groans, Impatient of Thy stay, Worn out with these long years of ill, These ages of delay. Come, for the good are few; They lift the voice in vain; Faith
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THE night shall soon be over, The morning soon shall dawn; The twilight and the darkness Alike shall soon be gone. Soon, soon shall come the day-spring, When we from earth shall rise, To bright celestial glories, Far, far beyond the skies. There joy in all its fulness, And pleasures evermore, Shall fill
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THIS is not my place of resting, Mine’s a city yet to come; Onwards to it I am hasting, On to my eternal home. In it all is light and glory, O’er it shines a nightless day; Every trace of sin’s sad story, All the curse has passed away. There the Lamb our