Maranatha Morning

In the glorious light of your return

Our spirits long to see your face

Hearts that ever seek Him yearn

For God to shed his richest grace.

When trumpet sound shall tear the skies,

And mountains fall into the sea

Saints, you may lift your joyful eyes,

There a new heaven and earth will be

Maranatha morning, rend the skies,

Bring that delightful, dreadful day;

Cut short the hours, thrill our eyes;

Maranatha, Lord we pray.

The lightning of your sharpened sword

Will cleave the skies as you appear

They will see the pierced, risen Lord

And this dark world trembles in fear

Haste, then, upon the wings of love,

Rouse all this anxious sleeping dust,

That we may join in heav'nly joys,

And sing the triumph of the God we trust.

Maranatha morning, rend the skies,

Bring that delightful, dreadful day;

Cut short the hours, thrill our eyes;

Maranatha, Lord we pray.

Some words after Isaace Watts

Anthony Foster

September 17, 2018

Zechariah 2:12

Luke 17:24

“For as the lightning flashes and lights up the sky from one side to the other, so will the Son of Man be in his day.” (Luke 17:24)