Lyrics: Charles Kingsley.
Tune: Edward Carpenter.
The Day of the Lord is at hand, at hand!
Its storms roll up the sky.
The nations sleep starving on heaps of gold;
All dreamers toss and sigh.
The night is darkest before the morn;
When the pain is sorest the child is born.
And the Day of the Lord’s at hand;
The Day of the Lord’s at hand.
Gather you, gather you, angels of God,
Freedom and Mercy and Truth.
O, come! for the earth is grown coward and old;
Come down and renew us her youth,
Wisdom, self-sacrifice, daring and love.
To the battlefield, haste; stoop from above
To the Day of the Lord at hand,
To the Day of the Lord at hand.
Who’d sit down and sigh for a lost age of gold
While the Lord of all ages is here?
True hearts will leap up at the trumpet of God,
And those who can suffer can dare.
Each old age of gold was an iron age, too,
And the meekest of saints may find stern work to do
In the Day of the Lord at hand,
In the Day of the Lord at hand.