The Lord Shall Come in Dead of Night

The Lord shall come in dead of night

When all is still­ness round;

How hap­py they whose lamps are bright

Who hail the trum­pet’s sound.

How blind and dead the world ap­pears

How deep her slum­bers are

Still dream­ing that the day she fears

Is dist­ant and afar.

Who spends his day in ho­ly toil

His tal­ent used aright

That he may haste

with heav­en­ly spoil

To meet his Lord that night?

Are you arous­ing from their sleep

The saints who dare to rest

And call­ing ev­ery one to keep

A watch more true and blest?

Wake up! my heart and soul

anew

Let sleep no mo­ment claim;

But hour­ly watch

as if ye knew

This night the Mas­ter came.