We are coming, hallelujah! we are coming home to God;
Jesus only we’re beholding, who has washed us in His blood.
We are marching back to Salem at the trumpet’s joyful sound,
And we’re building God’s own temple on it’s ancient holy ground.

We are coming, oh, we’re coming, with the glory in the soul!
Grace we’re shouting as we’re bringing Christ, the headstone we extol.
Though as captives long we’ve suffered, we do feel the royal blood,
And we’re rising to our freedom in the fullness of our God.

While we’re working, we are fighting all the mighty foes around;
Though in wrath they do oppose us we will not desert the ground.
O my God, do Thou remember all those wicked, plotting crews,
Hear them saying in derision, ‘Now what do these feeble Jews?

‘Thou art coming, mighty Jesus, in the power of Thy grace;
Now our souls break forth in singing at the smiling of Thy face.
Fear of sect, a mount of terror, Thou hast made an open plain,
And the misty fogs of error all have vanished where we reign.

Our foundation strong is Jesus, He the upper, crowning stone;
Hallelujah! we adore Him, king upon His living throne.
And His crimson glory streaming through each crystal stone below
Tints the whole ecstatic temple with the beauty of His glow.

Oh, the glory of this temple far exceeds the former one!
All its stones are bound together in love’s dear eternal Son.
In this building, what a wonder! there’s a dwelling place for me;
Yes, Thy beauty, O my Savior! I shall here forever see.


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