Arise, Sons of the Kingdom

Arise

sons of the king­dom!

The King is draw­ing nigh;

Arise

and hail with glad­ness

The rul­er from on high.

Ye Christ­ians

hast­en forth!

Your praise and hom­age bring Him

And glad ho­san­nas sing Him

Naught else your love is worth.

Arise

ye droop­ing mourn­ers!

The King is ve­ry near;

Away with grief and sor­row

For lo! your help is here.

Behold

in ma­ny a place—

We find Him

our sal­va­tion

O bless­ed con­so­la­tion!

In His pure means of grace.

Arise

ye much af­flict­ed!

The King is now not far;

Rejoice

ye long de­ject­ed!

Here comes the Morn­ing Star.

The Lord will give you joy;

Though trou­bles now dis­tress you

With com­fort He will bless you

E’en death He will de­stroy.

Now hear

ye bold tran­sgress­ors

The King does well give heed

To all that ye are do­ing

And to the life ye lead

Enthralled to sin and hell;

Nothing in all cre­ation

Escapes His ob­ser­va­tion

He mark­eth all things well.

Be right­eous

ye His sub­jects

The King is just and true;

Prepare for Him a high­way

Make all things straight and new.

He means all for our good

Then let us bear our cross­es

That He Him­self im­pos­es

In an un­daunt­ed mood.

Though war and con­fla­gra­tion

Take all our goods away;

The Lord is our sal­va­tion

And he­ritage for aye.

E’en though our loved ones die

Yet they are not for­sak­en

But from this world are tak­en

To live with God on high

Arise

ye poor and needy!

The King pro­vides for you;

He comes with suc­cor speedy

With mer­cy ev­er new.

He who a beast did heed

Lets not His child­ren per­ish;

All hopes that man may cher­ish

He can ful­fill in­deed.

He nev­er­more for­sak­eth

A child that feels the rod

Who Him his re­fuge mak­eth

And puts his trust in God.

He is our sov­er­eign king;

E’en death it­self shall nev­er

Those from their mas­ter sev­er

Who to His mer­cy cling.

Arise

ye faint and fear­ful!

The King now comes with might

His heart hath long since loved us

He makes our dark­ness light.

Now are our sor­rows o’er;

No wrath shall e’er be­fall us

Since God in grace doth call us

His child­ren ev­er­more.

Haste then

with ea­ger foot­steps

To see your sov­er­eign there!

He rides as king of Zi­on

Strong

glo­ri­ous

meek and fair.

Draw near the Lord and give

To Him your sa­lu­ta­tion

Who bring­eth great sal­va­tion

And bids the sin­ner live.

The King in grace re­mem­bers

His loved ones here be­low

With gifts of roy­al trea­sures

Yea

doth Him­self be­stow

Through His blest Word and grace.

O King

ar­rayed in splen­dor

To Thee all praise we’ll ren­der

Here and there face to face.

O rich the gifts Thou bring’st us

Thyself made poor and weak;

O love be­yond ex­press­ion

That thus can sin­ners seek!

For this

O Lord

will we

Our joy­ous trib­ute bring Thee

And glad ho­san­nas sing Thee

And ev­er grate­ful be.