Signs Are Everywhere

The King is coming in glory

To catch His bride away,

It may be in the morning

It may be at mid-day,

At the even or midnight;

The trump will sound so clear,

The dead in Christ, and we that live,

His voice shall hear.

The King is coming, hallelujah!

He's coming in the air,

The fig tree is budding,

The signs are everywhere,

The saints are looking ever up-ward

While jour'ning on their way,

He's coming, hallelujah!

To catch his bride away.

Behold! He cometh, and leaping

And skipping o'er the hills;

Like the young roe, like the young hart,

My soul with rapture thrills;

Thru the window He's looking,

Thru the lattice-work is seen,

The winter's past, the rain is o'er,

The figs are green.

The King is coming, "Be ready,"

To meet Him on that day;

With your heart right,

with your robes white,

And in this holy way;

Like the light'ning that flashes

In the twinkling of an eye,

Our Lord shall come to claim His own

He's drawing nigh.

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