Hope of our hearts, O Lord, appear,

Thou glorious star of day!

Shine forth, and chase the dreary night,

With all our tears, away.

2 Strangers on earth, we wait for thee;

O leave the Father’s throne;

Come with a shout of victory, Lord,

And claim us as thine own.

3 O bid the bright archangel now

The trump of God prepare,

To call thy saints—the quick, the dead,

To meet thee in the air.

4 No resting-place we seek on earth,

No loveliness we see;

Our eye is on the royal crown,

Prepared for us and thee.

5 But, dearest Lord, however bright

That crown of joy above,

What is it to the brighter hope

Of dwelling in thy love?

6 What to the joy, the deeper joy,

Unmingled, pure and free,

Of union with our living Head,

Of fellowship with thee?

7 This joy e’en now on earth is ours;

But only, Lord, above

Our heart without a pang shall know

The fullness of thy love.

8 There, near thy heart, upon the throne,

Thy ransomed Bride shall see

What grace was in the bleeding Lamb,

Who died to make her free.