That glorious day is drawing nigh,
When Zion’s light shall come;
She shall arise and shine on high,
Bright as the morning sun.
The north and south their suns resign,
And earth’s foundation bend;
Christ, like a comely bride adorn’d,
All glorious shall descend.
The holy bright musician band,
Who play on harps of gold,
In holy order, see they stand,
Fair Salem to behold.
Ascending on such melting strains,
Jehovah’s name they bear,
Such shouts thro’ earth’s extensive plains
Were never heard before.
Like apples fair his beauties are,
To feed and cheer the mind,
No earthly fruit can so recruit,
Nor flagons full of wine.
Their troubles o’er, they grieve no more,
But sing in strains of joy,
In raptures sweet, and bliss complete,
They feast and never cloy.