H. Burton
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.