IN These, the closing days of time, What joy the glorious hope affords, That soon–oh, wondrous truth sublime! He shall reign, King of kings and Lord of lords.

He's coming soon, He's coming soon; With joy we welcome His returning; It may be morn; it may be night or noon, We know He's coming soon.

The signs around, in earth and air, Or painted on the starlit sky, God's faithful witnesses declare That the coming of the Saviour draweth nigh.

He's coming soon, He's coming soon; With joy we welcome His returning; It may be morn; it may be night or noon, We know He's coming soon.

The dead in Christ who 'neath us lie, In countless numbers, all shall rise When through the portals of the sky He shall come to prepare our Paradise.

He's coming soon, He's coming soon; With joy we welcome His returning; It may be morn; it may be night or noon, We know He's coming soon.

And we who, living, yet remain, Caught up, shall meet our faithful Lord; This hope we cherish not in vain, But we comfort one another by this word.

He's coming soon, He's coming soon; With joy we welcome His returning; It may be morn; it may be night or noon, We know He's coming soon.