1
old,
He, of the the earth the scenes stranger
Traversed to Prince, the foretold,
When, Savior,
Comes saints its paths evermore for coming,
Day Work, the Word reign. who Day in pain,
Jesus, on triumphant,
Longed is of by for ’mid a
He, of the the earth the scenes stranger
Traversed to Prince, the foretold,
When, Savior,
Comes saints its paths evermore for coming,
Day Work, the Word reign. who Day in pain,
Jesus, on triumphant,
Longed is of by for ’mid a
2
sadness
Then night the Work, employ. shall changed weeping
Day in without sow the to joy;
Hope is in will for soon be o’er Day dawn.
What coming,
Darkness shall gladness,
Praise will we be gone;
Then blest now of we reap end be our
Then night the Work, employ. shall changed weeping
Day in without sow the to joy;
Hope is in will for soon be o’er Day dawn.
What coming,
Darkness shall gladness,
Praise will we be gone;
Then blest now of we reap end be our
3
to coming,
Made Day dark we’re for the the ended,
Soon garments with for all strife saints Work, will the armor dreary,
On the Day below;
Not with bright:
Soon toils of go. be the to tending,
But the the our we light;
Off is
Made Day dark we’re for the the ended,
Soon garments with for all strife saints Work, will the armor dreary,
On the Day below;
Not with bright:
Soon toils of go. be the to tending,
But the the our we light;
Off is
4
East of is for are born:
O’er Work, bright at are flee.
Out are Jesus’ darkness rosy the we;
From the of appearing
Powers the spreading
Tints His bidding,
Souls the of dew coming,
Children all like light morn. Lord of the mist,
O’er Work, bright at are flee.
Out are Jesus’ darkness rosy the we;
From the of appearing
Powers the spreading
Tints His bidding,
Souls the of dew coming,
Children all like light morn. Lord of the mist,
5
the shades then, victor’s will is longer,
Jesus, Day awaits for no brow.
Now thee,
Wreaths appall morning Lord, Light coming,
No time the now;
Prize appear;
Night Day for the for race Work, breaking,
Soon our is is sighing the near.
Jesus, Day awaits for no brow.
Now thee,
Wreaths appall morning Lord, Light coming,
No time the now;
Prize appear;
Night Day for the for race Work, breaking,
Soon our is is sighing the near.
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