That glor’ous day is drawing nigh,
When Zion’s light shall come;
She shall arise and shine on high,
Bright as the rising sun;
The north and south their sons resign,
And earth’s foundations bend,
When, like a bride, Jerusalem
All glor’ous shall descend.
The King who wears that glor’ous crown,
The azure flaming bow,
The holy city shall bring down,
To bless the church below.
When Zion’s bleeding, conqu’ring King
Shall sin and death destroy,
The morning stars will t’gether sing,
And Zion shout for joy.
This holy, bright, musician band,
Who hold the harps of God,
On Zion’s holy mountain stand,
In garments tinged with blood;
Descending, with most melting strains,
Jehovah they’ll adore;
Such shouts thru earth’s extensive plains,
Were never heard before.
Let Satan rage and boast no more,
Nor think his reign is long;
Tho saints are feeble, weak, and poor
Their great Redeemer’s strong;
He is their shield and hiding place,
A covert from the wind;
A stream of life from Christ, the rock,
Runs thru this weary land.