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The King shall come when morning dawns
And light triumphant breaks,
When beauty gilds the eastern hills
And life to joy awakes.
O brighter than the rising morn
When he, victorious, rose
And left the lonesome place of death,
Despite the rage of foes.
O brighter than that glorious morn
Shall this fair morning be,
When Christ, our King, in beauty comes,
And we his face shall see!
And let the endless bliss begin,
By weary saints foretold,
When right shall triumph over wrong,
And truth shall be extolled.
The King shall come when morning dawns
And light and beauty brings.
Hail, Christ, the Lord! Thy people pray:
"Come quickly, King of Kings."
Words: Early Greek Hymn, trans. John Brownlie, 1907
Music: Traditional American Melody, 1816; arr. Erik Dewar
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