Rejoicing in hope we wait for our King:
his coming is sure, his conquest we sing.
His hour of returning draws daily more near;
with hearts hushed and burning we see him appear.
He comes with a shout, and music’s glad sound,
the ransomed of Earth encircling him round.
The dead and the living shall meet in the air,
in deathless thanksgiving his glories declare.
Redeemed by his blood, renewed by his grace,
we long to adore our Lord face to face:
our eyes shall behold him in light unsurpassed;
his love shall enfold us in worship at last.
Our King shall arise, his purpose complete,
and cast his last foe far under his feet;
then all his creation, released from sin’s pain,
in perfect salvation shall share in his reign.
And so we endure the wounds of the way,
rejoicing in hope of Christ’s crowning day.
With angels in wonder his triumph we’ll sing,
in praises like thunder hail Jesus our King!