The King shall come when morning dawns,
And light triumphant breaks;
When beauty gilds the eastern hills,
And life to joy awakes.
Not as of old, a little child
To bear, and fight, and die,
But crowned with glory like the sun,
That lights that morning sky.
O, brighter than the rising morn,
When Christ, victorious rose,
And left the lonesome place of death,
Despite the rage of foes—
O, brighter than that glorious morn,
Shall dawn upon our race
the day when Christ in splendor comes,
And we shall see his face.
The King shall come when morning dawns,
And light and beauty brings,
Hail! Christ the Lord; Your people pray
Come quickly, King of kings.
