S. G. Stock
LORD, Thy ransomed Church is waking
Out of slumber far and near,
Knowing that the morn is breaking
When the Bridegroom shall appear;
Waking up to claim the treasure
With thy precious life-blood bought,
And to trust in fuller measure
All Thy wondrous death hath wrought.
2
Praise to Thee for this glad shower,
Precious drops of latter rain;
Praise, that by Thy Spirit’s power
Thou hast quickened us again;
That Thy gospel’s priceless treasure
Now is borne from land to land,
And that all the Father’s pleasure
Prospers in Thy pierced hand.
3
Praise to Thee for saved ones yearning
O’er the lost and wandering throng;
Praise for voices daily learning
To upraise the glad new song;
Praise to Thee for sick ones hasting
Now to touch Thy garment’s hem;
Praise for souls believing, tasting
All Thy love has won for them.
4
Set on fire our heart’s devotion
With the love of Thy dear name;
Till o’er every land and ocean
Lips and lives Thy cross proclaim.
Fix our eyes on Thy returning,
Keeping watch till Thou shalt come,
Loins well girt, lamps brightly burning;
Then, Lord, take Thy servants home.