1 The King shall come when morning dawns
And light triumphant breaks,
When beauty gilds the eastern hills
And life to joy awakes:

2 Not as of old a little child,
To bear and fight and die,
But crowned with glory like the sun
That lights the morning sky.

3 O brighter than the rising morn
When he, victorious, rose
And left the lonesome place of death,
Despite the rage of foes:

4 O brighter than that glorious morn
Shall this fair morning be,
When Christ, our King, in beauty comes
And we his face shall see!

5 The King shall come when morning dawns
And light and beauty brings.
Hail, Christ the Lord! Thy people pray:
Come quickly, King of kings.