IT draweth near!
That day,—of days the day,—
For which the Bridegroom waits,
For which the virgins pray;
For which earth sighs, and hastes
To greet it on its way;
Asking, as on it comes,
Why this so long delay?
It draweth near at last!
Who shall its advent stay?

It hastes to rise!
That sun,—of suns the sun,—
Whose rising is the pledge
Of evil all undone.
Of darkness at an end,
And heavenly day begun;
The war of ages o’er.
And the last battle won.
It hasteth to arise,
Its glorious race to run,

It swelleth forth!
That song—of songs the song—
Creation’s melody,
From harps till now unstrung.
The new, sweet matin hymn,
As yet on earth unsung,
Poured in rich bursts of praise
From every heart and tongue;
The anthem of the world
Redeemed from woe and wrong.

He comes in power!
The King—of kings the King—
All righteousness and peace
In His right hand to bring;
Into the last abyss
Each rebel crown to fling;
Time’s ages of misrule
To end; that now may spring
Order, and law, and light
Beneath His holy wing.

H. Bonar.

Horatius Bonar and Charlotte Murray, Songs of the Dawn, (London; New York: James E. Hawkins; E. P. Dutton & Co., 1887), 7.