Look Up, Ye Saints, with Sweet Surprise

Look up

ye saints

with sweet sur­prise

Toward the joy­ful com­ing day

When Je­sus shall des­cend the skies

And form a bright and daz­zling ray.

Nations shall in a day be born

And swift

like doves

to Je­sus fly

The church shall know no clouds re­turn

No sor­rows mixing with their joy.

The li­on and the lamb shall feed

Together in His peace­ful reign;

And Zion

blest with heav’n­ly bread

Of pinch­ing wants no more com­plain.

The Jew

the Greek

the bond

the free

Shall boast their se­pa­rate rights no more;

But join in sweet­est har­mo­ny

Their Lord

their Sav­ior to ad­ore.

Thus

’till a thou­sand years be past

Shall ho­li­ness and peace pre­vail;

And ev­ery knee shall bow to Christ

And ev­ery tongue shall Je­sus hail.

Then the re­deemed shall mount on high

Where their de­li­ver­ing Prince is gone;

And an­gels at His word shall fly

To bless them with the con­quer­or’s crown.