The Expectant Bride

Put on thy beau­ti­ful robes

Bride of Christ

For the King shall em­brace thee to­day

Break forth in­to sing­ing

the morn­ing has dawned

And the sha­dows of the night speed away.

Shake off the dust from thy feet

Bride of Christ

For the Con­quer­or

gird­ed with might

Has van­quished the de­vil

the dra­gon cast down

And the co­horts of Hell put to flight.

Thou art the Bride of His love

His elect—

Dry thy tears

for thy sor­rows are past;

Long were all the hours when thy Lord was away

But He comes with the morn­ing at last.

The winds bear the noise of His cha­ri­ot wheels

And the thun­ders of vic­to­ry roar;

Lift up thy beau­ti­ful gates

Bride of Christ

For the grave has do­min­ion no more.

Once they ar­rayed Him with scorn­ing

but see

His ap­par­el is glo­ri­ous now:

In His hand are the keys of death and of hell

And the dia­dem gleams on His brow.

Hark! ’tis her voice: Al­le­lu­ia—she sings—

Alleluia

the cap­tives are free;

Unfolded now the gates of para­dise stand

And un­fold­ed they for ev­er shall be.

Choir an­swers choir

where the song has no end

All the saints raise ho­san­nahs on high;

Deep calls un­to deep in the ocean of love

As the Bride lifts her ju­bi­lant cry!