1
scenes Prince, Savior,
Comes ’mid old,
He, of the of stranger
Traversed its is for earth foretold,
When, coming,
Day who a the triumphant,
Longed reign. paths to evermore the the Word Work, Day in by on for the saints pain,
Jesus,
Comes ’mid old,
He, of the of stranger
Traversed its is for earth foretold,
When, coming,
Day who a the triumphant,
Longed reign. paths to evermore the the Word Work, Day in by on for the saints pain,
Jesus,
2
will the gone;
Then blest we be be end employ. sadness
Then in Work, shall reap weeping
Day our gladness,
Praise changed will in now to the of without Day be shall joy;
Hope for is sow dawn.
What o’er night we soon coming,
Darkness
Then blest we be be end employ. sadness
Then in Work, shall reap weeping
Day our gladness,
Praise changed will in now to the of without Day be shall joy;
Hope for is sow dawn.
What o’er night we soon coming,
Darkness
3
we to all our will bright:
Soon for Day the dreary,
On the armor Work, the for is to light;
Off tending,
But strife with the toils the go. the coming,
Made with garments saints be dark ended,
Soon Day below;
Not of the we’re
Soon for Day the dreary,
On the armor Work, the for is to light;
Off tending,
But strife with the toils the go. the coming,
Made with garments saints be dark ended,
Soon Day below;
Not of the we’re
4
for the East morn. Work, of the dew are the bidding,
Souls bright Lord at Jesus’ like mist, of light are we;
From of is all spreading
Tints darkness the coming,
Children appearing
Powers are His the of flee.
Out rosy born:
O’er
Souls bright Lord at Jesus’ like mist, of light are we;
From of is all spreading
Tints darkness the coming,
Children appearing
Powers are His the of flee.
Out rosy born:
O’er
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is then, appear;
Night our morning Day Day Work, longer,
Jesus, the is no the victor’s is race for near. for appall thee,
Wreaths Lord, brow.
Now the breaking,
Soon now;
Prize awaits the coming,
No sighing shades Light time will for
Night our morning Day Day Work, longer,
Jesus, the is no the victor’s is race for near. for appall thee,
Wreaths Lord, brow.
Now the breaking,
Soon now;
Prize awaits the coming,
No sighing shades Light time will for
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