The Coming King (Gilbert)

Lo

our king is sure­ly com­ing

Cry the sen­ti­nels to­day;

From their watch tow­ers on the hill­tops

They are look­ing far away

And they see the wav­ing sig­nals

And they hear the mea­sured tread

That shall soon ar­rest the liv­ing

And awake the sleep­ing dead.

For our king is sure­ly com­ing;

Angel hosts shall shout it then

But His her­alds He has chos­en

From among the sons of men.

Let Him find you when He com­eth

At your hum­ble dai­ly toil;

At the sweep­ing of the kit­chen

Or the till­ing of the soil;

Let Him find you by the way­side

Helping on some stum­bling child

Let Him find you where the tem­pest

Spreads it de­vas­ta­tion wild.

Let Him find you tell­ing hea­then

Of the un­known God they seek;

Let Him find you in the sick room

Cheering up the faint and weak;

Let Him find you in the ci­ty

Making straight the paths of youth

Let Him find you in the pul­pit

Spreading forth the liv­ing truth.

But wher­ev­er He may find you

Let it be with ten­der hand;

Guiding men to un­der­stand­ing

Of His pre­cept and com­mand.

For where’er our du­ty leads us

Be it hum­ble work or fine

He will hon­or most the spir­it

That shows forth His love di­vine.