THE Lord shall come! the earth shall quake; The mountains to their centre shake; And, withering from the vault of night, The stars shall pale their feeble light.
The Lord shall come! but not the same As once in lowliness He came; A silent lamb before His foes, A weary man, and full of woes.
The Lord shall come! in glorious form, With rainbow wreath and robes of storm; On cherub wings, and wings of wind, Appointed Judge of all mankind.
Can this be He Who bore His load A pilgrim on life’s dusty road; Oppressed by power, and mocked by pride, The Nazarene—the Crucified?
While sinners in despair shall call, ‘Rocks, hide us; mountains, on us fall!’ The saints, ascending from the tomb, Shall joyful sing, ‘The Lord is come!’
Reginald Heber, 1783-1826, Thomas Cotterill, 1779-1823