H. Burton

8.7.8.7.D.

THERE’S a light upon the mountains,

And the day is at the spring,

When our eyes shall see the beauty

And the glory of the King;

Weary was our heart with waiting,

And the night-watch seemed so long,

But His triumph-day is breaking,

And we hail it with a song.

2

In the fading of the starlight

We can see the coming morn;

And the lights of men are paling

In the splendors of the dawn;

For the eastern skies are glowing

As with lights of hidden fire,

And the hearts of men are stirring

With the throb of deep desire.

3

There’s a hush of expectation,

And a quiet in the air;

And the breath of God is moving

In the fervent breath of prayer;

For the suffering, dying Jesus

Is the Christ upon the throne,

And the travail of our spirits

Is the travail of His own.

4

He is breaking down the barriers,

He is casting up the way;

He is calling for His angels

To build up the gates of day;

But His angels here are human,

Not the shining hosts above,

For the drum-beats of His army

Are the heart-beats of our love.

5

Hark! we hear a distant music,

And it comes with fuller swell;

’Tis the triumph song of Jesus,

Of our King Emmanuel;

Zion, go ye forth to meet Him,

And my soul, be swift to bring

All thy sweetest and thy dearest

For the triumph of our King.