The King Is Coming in Glory

The King is com­ing in glo­ry

To catch His bride away

It may be in the morn­ing

It may be at mid­day

At the ev­en or mid­night;

The trump will sound so clear

The dead in Christ

and we that live

His voice shall hear.

The King is com­ing

hal­le­lu­jah!

He’s com­ing in the air

The fig tree is bud­ding

The signs are ev­ery­where

The King is com­ing

hal­le­lu­jah!

He’s com­ing in the air

He’s com­ing

hal­le­lu­jah!

To catch His bride away.

Behold! He com­eth

and leap­ing

And skip­ping o’er the hills;

Like the young roe

like the young hart

My soul with rap­ture thrills;

Thru the win­dow He’s look­ing

Thru the lat­tice work is seen

The win­ter’s past

the rain is o’er

The figs are green.

The King is com­ing

Be rea­dy

To meet Him on that day;

With your heart right

with your robes white

And in this ho­ly way;

Like the light­ning that flash­es

In the twink­ling of an eye

Our Lord shall come to claim His own

He’s draw­ing nigh.

The saints are look­ing ev­er up­ward

While jour­n’ing on their way.

He’s com­ing

hal­le­lu­jah!

To catch His bride away.

The saints are look­ing ev­er up­ward

While journ’ing on their way.

He’s com­ing

hal­le­lu­jah!

To catch His bride away.