1 He is coming, he is coming,
Not as once he came before,
Wailing infant, born in weakness,
On a lowly stable floor;
But upon his cloud of glory,
In the crimson tinted sky,
Where we see the golden sunrise
In the rosy distance lie.

Refrain:
Then we'll shout the victory,
Yes, we'll shout the victory,
By and by, when he comes,
Then we'll shout the victory,
Then we'll shout the victory,
Yes, we'll shout the victory when he comes!

2 He is coming, he is coming,
Not in pain, and shame, and woe,
With the thorn crown on his forehead,
And the blood drops trickling slow;
But with diadem upon him,
And the sceptre in his hand,
And the dead all ranged before him,
Rais'd from death, in sea, and land. [Chorus]

3 He is coming, he is coming;
Let his lowly first estate,
And his tender love, so teach us
That in faith and hope we wait,
Till in glory eastward burning,
Our redemption draweth near;
And we see the sign in heaven
Of our Judge and Saviour dear. [Chorus]