THY Kingdom, Lord, we long for,
Where love shall find its own,
And brotherhood triumphant
Our years of pride disown.
Thy captive people languish
In mill and mart and mine;
We lift to Thee their anguish,
We wait Thy promised Sign!

Thy Kingdom, Lord, Thy Kingdom,
All secretly it grows;
In faithful hearts forever
His seed the Sower sows.
Yet ere its consummation
Must dawn a mighty doom.
For judgment and salvation
The Son of Man shall come.

If now perchance in tumult
His destined Sign appear,--
The Rising of the People,--
Dispel our coward fear!
Let comforts that we cherish,
Let old tradition die;
Our wealth, our wisdom perish,
So that He draw but nigh!

In wrath and revolution
The Sign may be displayed,
But by Thy grace we'll greet it
With spirits unafraid.
The awestruck heart presages
An Advent dread and sure;
It hails the hope of ages--
Its Master in the poor.

Beyond our fierce confusions,
Our strife of speech and sword,
Our wars of class and nation,
We wait Thy certain Word.
The Church and the Hour
The meek and poor in spirit
Who in Thy promise trust
The Kingdom shall inherit,
The blessing of the Just.

Project Canterbury