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II

7,6,8,6,8,8

The King is on His journey,

His heralds go before;

Soon shall the earth receive her Lord,

Nor mourn His absence more;

The dawn is leading in the day,

Ye sons of men, prepare His way.

The triumph of His victory

In battle songs proclaim;

Speak to the captive in his chains

The magic of His name;

He rules o'er freemen, not o'er slaves,

His arm is mighty, and it saves.

Bedeck His throne majestic,

Set forth His royal state;

With palms bestrew His onward path,

And open wide the gate;

His coming, lo, is now at hand,

Obedient, wait His high command.

O Jesus, King, come quickly;

Thy waiting people pine

To see the beauty of Thy face

And hear Thy voice divine;

The fealty of their lives to give,

In willing service while they live.

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