Jesus! thy church, with longing eyes
  For thine expected coming waits;
When will the promised light arise,
  And glory beam from Zion’s gates?

2 E’en now when tempests round us fall,
  And wintry clouds o’ercast the sky,
Thy words with pleasure we recall,
  And deem that our redemption’s nigh.

3 Oh! come and reign o’er ev’ry land;
  Let Satan from his throne be hurled,
All nations bow to thy command,
  And grace revive a dying world.

4 Teach us, in watchfulness and prayer,
  To wait for the appointed hour;
And fit us by thy grace to share,
  The triumphs of thy conquering power.

     William H. Bathurst, 1831.

162     Middletown. 8s & 7s.  D.
Crown Him Lord of All.     (615)

Crown his head with endless blessing,
Who, in God the Father’s name,
With compassions never ceasing,
Comes salvation to proclaim. 
Hail, ye saints, who know his favor,
Who within his gates are found;
Hail, ye saints, th’ exalted Savior,
Let his courts with praise resound.

2 Lo, Jehovah, we adore thee;
Thee our Savior! thee our God! 
From his throne his beams of glory
Shine through all the world abroad. 
Jesus, thee our Savior hailing
Thee our God in praise we own;
Highest honors, never failing,
Rise eternal round thy throne.

     William Goode, 1811.

163     Abt. 8s & 7s.
Much Forgiven.     (616)

Hail! my ever blessed Jesus! 
  Only thee I wish to sing. 
To my soul, thy name is precious,
  Thou, my Prophet, Priest, and King.

2 Oh! what mercy flows from heaven! 
  Oh! what joy and happiness! 
Love I much?  I’ve much forgiven;
  I’m a miracle of grace.

3 Once with Adam’s race in ruin,
  Unconcerned in sin I lay;
Swift destruction still pursuing,
  Till my Savior passed that way

4 Witness, all ye host of heaven! 
  My Redeemer’s tenderness;
Love I much?  I’ve much forgiven;
  I’m a miracle of grace.

5 Shout, ye bright angelic choir! 
  Praise the Lamb enthroned above;
Whilst, astonished, I admire
  God’s free grace, and boundless love.

6 That blest moment I received him,
  Filled my soul with joy and peace: 
Love I much?  I’ve much forgiven;
  I’m a miracle of grace.

     John Wingrove, 1806.

164     Olivet. 6s & 4s.
Veni, Sancte Spiritus!     (386)

Come, Holy Ghost! in love,
Shed on us, from above,
  Thine own bright ray: 
Divinely good thou art;
Thy sacred gifts impart,
To gladden each sad heart;
  Oh! come to-day!

2 Come, tenderest Friend, and best,
Our most delightful Guest! 
  With soothing power;
Rest, which the weary know;
Shade, ’mid the noontide glow;
Peace, when deep griefs o’erflow;
  Cheer us, this hour!