There's a light upon the mountains,
and the day is at the spring,
When our eyes shall see the beauty
and the glory of the King;
Weary was our heart with waiting,
and the night-watch seemed so long,
But His triumph-day is breaking, and
we hail it with a song.
In the fading of the starlight we can
see the coming morn;
And the lights of men are paling in
the splendors of the dawn;
For the eastern skies are glowing as
with lights of hidden fire,
And the hearts of men are stirring
with the throb of deep desire.
There's a hush of expectation, and
a quiet in the air;
And the breath of God is moving in
the fervent breath of prayer;
For the suffering,
dying Jesus is the Christ upon the throne,
And the travail of our spirit is the
travail of His own.
He is breaking down the barriers,
He is casting up the way;
He is calling for His angels to build
up the gates of day;
But His angels here are human, not
the shining hosts above,
For the drum-beats of His army are
the heart-beats of our love.
Hark! we hear a distant music, and
it comes with fuller swell;
'Tis the triumph song of Jesus, of
our King Emmanuel;
Zion, go ye forth to meet Him,
and my soul, be swift to bring
All thy sweetest and thy dearest for
the triumph of our King.