Hymnal: The Christian Psalmist
Date: 1848
Compiler: S W Leonard and A D Fillmore
Publisher/Printer: S W Leonard
First Line: Come let us sing the coming fate
Topic: <no topic given>
Writer: <no first name given> <no last name given>
Composer:
Meter: 8s and 6s
Tune:
Hymn Number: 268
Page Number: 265, click to see hymnal pages
LyicsCome, let us sing the coming fate
Of mystic Babylon the great--
Her doom is drawing near;
Jesus now comes on earth to reign,
His cause and people to maintain--
For them he'll soon appear.
Before him flows a fiery stream,
The heavens above with lightnings gleam,
A thousand thunders roar:
A heavenly host with him descends,
His voice to all the earth extends,
His saints now grive no more.
Eclipsed by glory so divine,
Sun, moon, and stars, refuse to shine,
The spheres now cease to roll:
Earth, wrapt in darkness deep as night,
With horror stricken at the sight,
Now quakes from pole to pole.
Angels of light at his command,
Ten thousand times ten thousand, stand
Waiting his voice to hear:
The fiery cherubs spread their wings,
The air with loud hosannas rings,
While all his saints draw near.
The day of recompense has come,
His people all are gathering home,
With joy they hear his voice:
The promised curse, the threatened woes,
Combined, now fall upon his foes,
The martyrs all rejoice.
She who the Twelve Apostles grieved,
And by her sorceries deceived
All nations of the world,
Now looks with anguish at their bliss,
Then sinks into the vast abyss,
To endless ruin hurled.
The living saints, and all the dead,
Now gather round their glorious head,
And reign with him below
An endless age of perfect peace,
Of love, and joy, and righteousness,
Exempt from every wo.
Then let us keep the end in view,
And ever on our way pursue,
The crown is yet before:
A few short days the conflict's done,
The battle's fought, the prize is won,
And we shall toil no more.