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1. The day of the Lord
is at hand, at hand;
Its storms roll up the sky;
The nations sleep starving
on heaps of gold;
All dreamers toss and sigh;
The night is darkest
before the morn;
When the pain is sorest
the child is born,
And the day of the Lord
is at hand, at hand,
The day of the Lord is at hand.
2. Who would sit down
and sigh for a lost age of gold,
While the Lord of all ages is here?
True hearts will leap
at the trumpet of God,
And those who can suffer can dare.
Each old age of gold
was an iron age, too,
And the meekest of saints
may find stern work to do
In the day of the Lord
at hand, at hand,
In the day of the Lord at hand.