Lord, How Shall I Be Meeting

Lord

how shall I be meet­ing

And how shall I em­brace

Thee

earth’s de­sire

when greet­ing

My soul’s adorn­ing grace?

O Je­sus

Je­sus

hold­ing

Thyself the flame in sight

Show how

Thy beam be­hold­ing

I may my Lord

de­light.

Fresh palms Thy Zi­on strew­eth

And branch­es ev­er green

And psalms my voice re­new­eth

To raise my joy se­rene.

Such bud­ding tri­bute pay­ing

My heart shall hymn Thy praise

Thy ho­ly name ob­ey­ing

With chief­est of my lays.

What hast Thou left un­grant­ed

To give me glad re­lief?

When soul and bo­dy pant­ed

In ut­most depth of grief

In hour of de­gra­da­tion

Thy peace and pi­ty smiled

Then Thou

my soul’s sal­va­tion

Didst hap­py make Thy child.

I lay in slav­ish mourn­ing

Thou cam’st to set me free;

I sank in shame and scorn­ing

Thou cam’st to com­fort me.

Thou raised’st me to glo­ry

Bestowing high­est good

Not frail and tran­si­to­ry

Like wealth on earth pur­sued.

Naught

naught did send Thee speed­ing

From man­sions of the skies

But love all love ex­cel­ling

Love able to com­prise

A world in pangs des­pair­ing

Weighed down with thou­sand woes

That tongue would fail de­clar­ing

But love doth fast en­close.

Grave on your heart this writ­ing

O band of mourn­ers poor!

With pains and sor­rows fight­ing

That throng you more and more;

Dismiss the fear that sick­ens

For lo! be­side you see

Him who your heart now quick­ens

And com­forts; here is He.

Why should you be de­tain­èd

In trou­ble day and night

As though He must be gain­èd

By arm of hu­man might?

He comes

He comes all will­ing

All full of grace and love

Those woes and trou­ble still­ing

Well known to Him above.

Nor need ye trem­ble ov­er

The guilt that gives dis­tress.

No! Je­sus all will co­ver

With grace and right­eous­ness:

He comes

He comes

pro­cur­ing

The peace of sin for­giv­en

To all God’s sons se­cur­ing

Their part and lot in Heav­en.

Why heed ye then the cry­ing

Of craf­ty foe­men nigh?

Your Lord shall send them fly­ing

In twink­ling of an eye.

He comes

He comes

for­ev­er

A king; and earth’s fell band

Shall prove in their en­dea­vor

Too fee­ble to with­stand.

He comes to judge the na­tions

Wroth if they wrath­ful prove

With sweet il­lu­mi­na­tions

To those who seek and love.

Come

come

O Sun eter­nal

And all our souls con­vey

To end­less bliss su­per­nal

In yon­der court of day.