The King shall come when morning dawns
And light triumphant breaks,
When beauty gilds the eastern hills
And life to joy awakes.

Not as of old a little child,
To bear and fight and die,
But crowned with glory like the sun
That lights the morning sky.

O, brighter than the rising morn
When Christ, victorious, rose
And left the lonesome place of death,
Despite the rage of foes.

O, brighter than that glorious morn
Shall dawn upon our race
The day when Christ in splendor comes,
And we shall see His face.

The King shall come when morning dawns
And light and beauty brings.
Hail, Christ the Lord! Your people pray:
Come quickly, King of kings.