The Church has waited long

Her absent Lord to see;

And still in loneliness she waits,

A friendless stranger she.

Age after age has gone,

Sun after sun has set,

And still in weeds of widowhood

She weeps a mourner yet.

Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

2 Saint after saint on earth

Has lived, and loved, and died;

And as they left us, one by one,

We laid them side by side;

We laid them down to sleep,

But not in hope forlorn;

We laid them but to ripen there,

Till the last glorious morn.

Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!

3 The whole creation groans,

And waits to hear that voice

That shall restore her comeliness,

And make her wastes rejoice.

Come, Lord, and wipe away

The curse, the sin, the stain,

And make this blighted world of ours

Thine own fair world again.

Come, then, Lord Jesus, come!