1 Son of God, thy people's shield,
Must we still thine absence mourn?
Let thy promise be fulfilled;
Thou hast said, "I will return."
Gracious Master, soon appear
Quickly bring thy morning's light;
Then will cease the constant tear,
Hope be turned to joyful sight.

2 As a woman counts the days
Till her absent lord she sees,
Longs and watches, weeps and prays,
So the church must long for thee.
Come, that we may see thee nigh;
Then the sheep shall feed in peace;
Hushed forever trouble's sigh,
Sin and sorrow's triumph cease.