“I will come again, and receive you unto MYSELF; that where I am, there ye may be also.”
WE’RE patiently waiting
Until Jesus come,
And anxiously longing
For the rest of Home;
For the glorious rapture
Which is nearing each day,
When Jesus, appearing,
Shall call us away!
Oh! to catch the first accents
Of that belov’d voice;
Beholding our Jesus
Our hearts will rejoice:
And the heavenly glory,
In prospect so bright,
For which we are waiting,
Shall burst on our sight.
Oh! it is not the glory
We desire to see,
But our Jesus HIMSELF,
Who our heaven shall be:
His presence is heaven,
His love our delight;
But we’re absent from HIM
In this dreary night.
We are waiting and watching
For we know not the day
When Jesus may come,
And call us away.
But we know that His promise,
Though deferred, cannot fail;
And, though wearily sighing,
Our faith shall prevail.
But Jesus! loved Saviour!
Whilst Thou dost delay,
No shadows can vanish,
No breaking of day;
It must be Thy hand, Lord,
That wipes from our eye
The tear of the desert,
And hushes the sigh.
We’re glad to be weary,
That then we may rest,
In unbroken enjoyment,
On Thy belov’d breast.
We’re glad to have sorrow,
That Thou mayst remove
Each trace of our crying
With Thine own hand of love!
For no other can lighten
The grief-burdened heart,
No other can bid
Our sorrow depart.
DESCEND, THEN, FROM HAVEN,
Performing Thy Word;
RECEIVE US TO THYSELF
Our adorable Lord!
J. W. T.