Come, righteous Branch of David!
The hour is all but ripe.
The earth with hope is gravid;
Her birthpangs sorely gripe.
We pray with ardor avid:
Come, David's Antitype!
Come, all injustice righting;
Come, spoils of sin restore;
Come, just decrees inditing
Where malice ruled before.
The ancient dragon smiting,
Unseal Your city's door.
Come quickly, Zion saving,
Yea, all who love You well:
All who the prize are craving
Whereof Your prophets tell,
While still the salvos braving
Of Satan, sin and hell.
Come, heaven's gates unsealing,
Jerusalem on high;
Come, all our bruises healing;
Come, every tear wipe dry;
Come, perfect bliss revealing
To faith's imperfect eye.
Come soon; and till Your coming
Direct our way to You,
That we, Your mercies plumbing,
May love each other, too,
And at our final summons
With joy Your glory view.
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