The Lord's Coming.

SEE those clouds with glory beaming
All across the azure sky,
Jesus claims His own redeemed ones,
And His shout proclaims Him nigh.

Hark! a voice, th' archangel's mission,
Saints awaked are upward led,
'Tis the trump of Him who raised
Jesus, Firstborn from the dead.

This the moment long expected,
Full of rapture and surprise,
Changed into His glorious likeness,
Jesus, Lord, to Thee we rise.

Oh, that meeting and that greeting,
All His own brought home to rest;
Glory, joy, eternal sunshine,
With the One in whom they're blest!

These, the fruit of toil and passion,
Ran the race and reached the goal,
All their crowns are laid before Him,
And His presence fills each soul.

"Unto Him who loved and washed us"
Saints proclaim with one accord;
Joy untold, and full of glory,
Fills the scene where Christ is Lord.

Thine and mine! The Lord of glory
To His Father doth present,
With exceeding joy, and faultless,
Those for whom the Son was sent.

And the place for them prepared,
Who can tell its length and breadth?
Th' love of God alone the measure,
Christ alone the height and depth. H. P.