Written By D.W. Whittle
A lamp in the night, a song in time of sorrow,
A great glad hope which faith can ever borrow
To gild the passing day with the glory of the morrow,
Is the hope of the coming of the Lord.
Blessed hope, blessed hope,
Blessed hope of the coming of the Lord;
How the aching heart it cheers;
How it glistens through our tears,
Blessed hope of the coming of the Lord.
A star in the sky, a beacon bright to guide us;
An anchor sure to hold when storms betide us;
A refuge for the soul, where in quiet we may hide us,
Is the hope of the coming of the Lord.
A call of command, like trumpet clearly sounding,
To make us bold when evil is surrounding;
To stir the sluggish heart, and to keep in goodabounding,
Is the hope of the coming of the Lord.
A word from the One to all our hearts the dearest,
A parting word to make Him aye the nearest;
Of all His precious words, the sweetest, brightest, clearest,
Is the hope of the coming of the Lord.