Work, for the Day is coming!
Made for the saints of light;
Off with the garments dreary,
On with the armor bright:
Soon will the strife be ended,
Soon all our toils below;
Not to the dark we’re tending,
But to the Day we go.
Work, then, the Day is coming!
No time for the sighing now!
Harps for the hands once drooping,
Wreaths for the victor’s brow,
Now morning Light is breaking,
Soon will the Day appear;
Night shades appal no longer,
Jesus, or Lord, is near!
