We’re patiently waiting
Until Jesus come,
And earnestly longing
For the rest of Home
For the glorious rapture
Which is nearing each day,
When Jesus appearing,
Shall call us away.
To catch the first accents
Of that beloved voice!
Beholding Thee, Jesus,
Our hearts will rejoice;
And the heavenly glory,
In prospect so bright,
For which we are waiting,
Shall burst on our sight.
It is not the glory
We desire to see,
But our Savior Himself,
Who our heaven shall be;
His presence is heaven,
His love our delight—
Though now absent from Him
In this dark dreary night.
We’re waiting and watching—
We know not the day
When our Savior may come
And call us away.
We know that His promise,
Though deferred, cannot fail,
And though wearily sighing,
Our faith shall prevail.
But Jesus, loved Savior,
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 beloved breast.
We’re glad to have sorrow
That Thou may’st remove
Each trace of our crying,
With Thy hand of love.
No other can lighten
The sin-burdened heart;
And no other can bid
Our sorrow depart.
Descend, then, from heaven,
Performing Thy Word—
Receive us to Thyself,
Our adorable Lord.