Hark, I hear a heavenly whisper
Soft as breeze in summer days!
“Almost all the saved are gathered,
And their harps are tuned for praise;
Now in Jesus’ presence resting,
They await the glorious day,
When in resurrection bodies,
‘Glistening in bright array,
Saints on earth shall rise to meet them,
At the heavenly trumpet’s sound,
At that moment, in a twinkling,
All His jewels shall be found.”
Then again the passing zephyr
Questioned my attentive ear—
“Art thou ready, art thou waiting,
Thus thy Saviour to be near?
Dost thou follow in His footsteps,
Hiding not thy feeble ray?
Helping on a drooping spirit
Through a dark and gloomy day?
Breathing words of love and comfort,
Waiting here a little while,
In the shadow of His presence
‘Neath the sunshine of His smile?”
As upon the words I pondered,
Answering echoes spoke to me—
“Dwell not on a sad tomorrow,
Christ shall come and call for thee.”
So I stood and long considered,
Till the eve was drawing late,
When again the zephyr whispered,
And the echo answered “WAIT.”
Then I turned me to my bower
Where I hear the zephyr’s play,
I am waiting and I’m watching
For the resurrection day—
I am waiting and I’m watching
Till the risen Lord shall come—
I am waiting and still watching
Till the church be gathered home.