First Line: They come and go, the seasons fair,

They come and go, the seasons fair,
And bring their spoil to vale and hills;
But oh, there is waiting in the air,
And a passionate hope the spirit fills.
Why doth He tarry, the absent Lord ?
When shall the Kingdom be restored.
And earth and heaven with one ac-cord,
Ring out the cry that the King comes ?

What will it be when the King comes !
What will it be when the King comes !
What will it be when He comes ! . .
What will it be when the King comes!

2 The floods have lifted up their voice;
The King hath come to His own—
His own !
The little hills and vales rejoice,
His right it is to take the crown.
Sleepers, awake, and meet Him first !
Now let the marriage hymn outburst !
And powers of darkness flee, disperst—
What will it be when the King comes!

3 A ransomed earth breaks forth in song,
Her sin-stained ages over-past;
Her yearning, Lord, how long, how long ?
Exchanged for joy at last—at last !
Angels, carry the royal commands;
Peace beams forth throughout all the lands:
The trees of the field shall clap their hands—
What will it be when the King comes !

4 Now Zion's hill, with glory crowned,
Uplifts her head with joy once more;
And Zion's King, once scorned, disowned,
Extends her rule from shore to shore.
Sing, for the land her Lord regains !
Sing, for the Son of David reigns !
And living streams o'erflow her plains—
What will it be when the King comes !

5 O brothers, stand as men that wait,
The dawn is purpling in the east,
And banners wave from heaven's high gate;
The conflict now—but soon the feast.
Mercy and truth shall meet again;
Worthy the Lamb that once was slain;
We can suffer now—He will know us then—
What will it be when the King
comes !