1 O Savior, awful was the word,
In Patmos’ island lone,
By Him in holy vision heard,
Thy own belovèd John.

2 "Behold! I come, I come with speed:
With Me is My reward;
And then of every man the meed
Shall with his work accord."

3 "Come then," from every faithful breast
The Holy Spirit cries;
And "Come!" in spotless raiment dressed,
The Church, Thy bride, replies.

4 O blest are they, whose bosoms share
The Spirit’s gifts serene:
Blest who the bridal garment wear,
That vesture white and clean.

5 Blest, who in Thy communion erst
Have loved, O Christ, to dwell;
Have freely drunk and slaked their thirst
From Thy enlivening well.

6 And when at length Thy warnings show
At hand the hour of doom,
Can meekly answer, "Even so,
Yea come, Lord Jesus, come!"