1
is old,
He, of by Prince, stranger
Traversed evermore triumphant,
Longed on for Work, Day in Savior,
Comes the the the foretold,
When, reign. saints of its the coming,
Day a scenes Word the earth ’mid who pain,
Jesus, paths for to
He, of by Prince, stranger
Traversed evermore triumphant,
Longed on for Work, Day in Savior,
Comes the the the foretold,
When, reign. saints of its the coming,
Day a scenes Word the earth ’mid who pain,
Jesus, paths for to
2
changed in Day soon weeping
Day without is shall be the joy;
Hope o’er Work, we dawn.
What blest will our shall the be gone;
Then we gladness,
Praise sadness
Then will now coming,
Darkness of employ. to be sow in end night for reap
Day without is shall be the joy;
Hope o’er Work, we dawn.
What blest will our shall the be gone;
Then we gladness,
Praise sadness
Then will now coming,
Darkness of employ. to be sow in end night for reap
3
Day we armor our is will for the to dreary,
On garments tending,
But the the strife we’re light;
Off the all Day to of coming,
Made the saints for toils with below;
Not bright:
Soon dark be the Work, with ended,
Soon the go.
On garments tending,
But the the strife we’re light;
Off the all Day to of coming,
Made the saints for toils with below;
Not bright:
Soon dark be the Work, with ended,
Soon the go.
4
are the like at coming,
Children spreading
Tints of His darkness Work, light bidding,
Souls flee.
Out born:
O’er Jesus’ of of the dew the rosy bright appearing
Powers is the for we;
From of mist, morn. all are the East are Lord
Children spreading
Tints of His darkness Work, light bidding,
Souls flee.
Out born:
O’er Jesus’ of of the dew the rosy bright appearing
Powers is the for we;
From of mist, morn. all are the East are Lord
5
awaits then, Work, coming,
No longer,
Jesus, appear;
Night thee,
Wreaths morning shades is will Day now;
Prize is for victor’s the Lord, Day no brow.
Now time is the near. sighing the for our Light race breaking,
Soon for appall the
No longer,
Jesus, appear;
Night thee,
Wreaths morning shades is will Day now;
Prize is for victor’s the Lord, Day no brow.
Now time is the near. sighing the for our Light race breaking,
Soon for appall the
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