The Day of the Lord Is at Hand

The day of the Lord is at hand

at hand

The storms roll up the sky;

A na­tion sleeps starv­ing on heaps of gold;

All dream­ers toss and sigh;

When the pain is sor­est

the child is born

The night is dark­est before the morn;

And the day of the Lord is at hand

at hand

The day of the Lord is at hand.

Gather you

ga­ther you

an­gels of God

Chivalry

jus­tice and truth;

Come

for the earth is grown cow­ard and old;

Come down and re­new us her youth!

Freedom

self-sac­ri­fice

mer­cy and love

Haste to the bat­tle­field

stoop from ab­ove

For the day of the Lord is at hand

at hand

The day of the Lord is at hand.

Gather you

ga­ther you

hounds of hell—

Famine

and plague and war;

Idleness

bi­got­ry

cant and mis­rule

Gather—and fall in the snare!

Hirelings and Mam­mon­ites

pe­dants and knaves

Crawl to the bat­tle

or sneak to your graves

Now the day of the Lord is at hand

The day of the Lord is at hand.

Who would sit down and whine for a lost age of gold

While the Lord of all ag­es is here?

True hearts will leap at the trum­pet of God

And those who can suf­fer can dare.

Each old age of gold was an ir­on age

too

And the meek­est of saints may find stern work to do

In the day of the Lord at hand

at hand

In the day of the Lord at hand.