’Tis Night—But O, the Joyful Morn

’Tis night—but O the joy­ful morn

Will soon our wait­ing spir­its cheer;

Yon gleams of com­ing glo­ry warn

Thy saints

O Lord

that Thou art near.

Lord of our hearts

be­loved of Thee

Weary of earth

we sigh to rest

Supremely hap­py

safe and free

For ever on Thy ten­der breast.

To see Thee

love Thee

feel Thee near

Nor dread

as now

Thy tran­si­ent stay;

To dwell be­yond the reach of fear

Lest joy should wane or pass away.

Children of hope

be­lov­èd Lord!

In Thee we live

we glo­ry now;

Our joy

our rest

our great re­ward

Our dia­dem of beau­ty

Thou!

And when ex­alt­ed

Lord

with Thee

Thy roy­al throne at length we share;

To ev­er­last­ing Thou shalt be

Our dia­dem

our glo­ry there!