|
|||||
| 87 COME, Lord, and tarry not, And bring the look'd for day; Drive past these years of waiting here, Which some men count delay. Come, for creation groans, Impatient of Thy stay, Worn out with these long years of ill, O, Saviour, come, we pray. Is not the corn now ripe? Put in Thy sickle now, Reap the great harvest of the earth; Sower and Reaper Thou! COME IN THY GLORIOUS MIGHT, COME WITH THE IRON ROD, SCATT' RING THY FOES BEFORE Tin' FACE, MOST MIGHTY SON OF GOD. Come and begin Thy reign Of everlasting peace; COME TAKE THE KINGDOM TO THYSELF, GREAT KING OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. |
|