Hope of Our Hearts, O Lord, Appear

Hope of our hearts! O Lord

ap­pear

Thou glor­ious Star of day!

Shine forth

and chase the drea­ry night

With all our tears

away.

Strangers on earth

we wait for Thee:

O leave the Fa­ther’s throne;

Come

with a shout of vic­to­ry

Lord

And claim us as Thine own.

O bid the bright arch­an­gel

then

The trump of God pre­pare

To call Thy saints—the quick—the dead—

To meet Thee in the air.

No rest­ing place we seek on earth

No love­li­ness we see;

Our eye is on the roy­al crown

Prepared for us and Thee.

But O the thought of shar­ing

Lord

Thy glor­ious throne abo­ve

What is it to the bright­er hope

Of dwell­ing in Thy love?

What to the joy—the deep­er joy

Unmingled

pure

and free

Of un­ion with our liv­ing Head—

Of fel­low­ship with Thee?

This joy e’en now on earth is ours;

But on­ly

Lord

ab­ove

Thy saints

with­out a pang

shall know

The full­ness of Thy love.

There

near Thy heart

up­on the throne

Thy ran­somed Bride shall see

What grace was in the bleed­ing Lamb

Who died to make her free.