Waiting (Fletcher)

Since the day when Ol­ive’s sum­mit

Lost the pres­sure of His feet

Faith

in watch­ful­ness

has wait­ed

Him thro’ clouds re-cleft to greet.

Then the sha­dows will have van­ished

Which across my life are cast;

Every doubt for­ev­er ban­ished

When I see His face at last.

For His com­ing I am liv­ing

For His voice my ear I train;

Every gold-lined cloud fore­tells me

Of the splen­dor of His reign.

In the thrall of man’s trans­gress­ion

Till His scep­ter rules the earth

Painfully cre­ation tra­vails

Waiting for its pledged re-birth.

I am wait­ing for the morn­ing

When His beams shall gild and bless;

When the night of faith is end­ed

By the Sun of right­eous­ness.