AS I wake up in the morning of each day that passes by
And I listen to the sounds upon my ear
I can’t help to keep a watch towards the eastern gate;
And I wonder if the trumpet, won’t be the
next sound that I’ll hear.
What a beautiful day for the Lord to come again;
What a beautiful day for Him to come and
take His children home;
How I long to see His face and to touch His
nail scarred hands, what a beautiful day for
The Lord to come again.
All my days of disappointments and my trails here below,
Faded away when I remember His last word
He said he’d return and receive His children unto Him,
And I’m longing to look upon the face of my Lord.