Work, for the Day is coming

Work, for the Day is coming,
  Day in the Word foretold,
When, ’mid the scenes triumphant,
  Longed for by saints of old,
He, who on earth a stranger
  Traversed its paths of pain,
Jesus, the Prince, the Savior,
  Comes evermore to reign.

Work, for the Day is coming,
  Darkness will soon be gone;
Then o’er the night of weeping
  Day without end shall dawn.
What now we sow in sadness
  Then we shall reap in joy;
Hope will be changed to gladness,
  Praise be our blest employ.

Work, for the Day is coming,
  Made for the saints of light;
Off with the garments dreary,
  On with the armor bright:
Soon will the strife be ended,
  Soon all our toils below;
Not to the dark we’re tending,
  But to the Day we go.

Work, for the Lord is coming,
  Children of light are we;
From Jesus’ bright appearing
  Powers of darkness flee.
Out of the mist, at His bidding,
  Souls like the dew are born:
O’er all the East are spreading
  Tints of the rosy morn.

Work, then, the Day is coming,
  No time for sighing now;
Prize for the race awaits thee,
  Wreaths for the victor’s brow.
Now morning Light is breaking,
  Soon will the Day appear;
Night shades appall no longer,
  Jesus, our Lord, is near.