1 BRIDE of the Lamb, awake, awake;
Why sleep for sorrow now?
The hope of glory, Christ, is thine,
A child of glory thou.
2 Thy spirit, through the lonely night,
From earthly joy apart,
Hath sighed for one that's far away,
The Bridegroom of thy heart.
3 But see, the night is waning fast,
The breaking morn is near;
And Jesus comes, with voice of love,
Thy drooping heart to cheer.
4 He comes, for, oh! His yearning heart
No more can bear delay,
To scenes of full unmingled joy
To call His bride away.
5 This earth, the scene of all His woe,
A homeless wild to thee,
Full soon upon His heavenly throne
Its rightful King shall see.
6 Thou too shalt reign; He will not wear
His crown of joy alone;
And earth His royal bride shall see
Beside Him on the throne.
7 Then weep no more; 'tis all thine own,
His crown, His joy divine;
And sweeter far than all beside,
He, He Himself, is thine.
