The Ascension (Behold the King of glory waits)

Behold the King of glory waits,
Spoiler of death, and sin,
Lift up your bars ye Heavenly gates,
And let the Conqueror in!

Who is the King of glory, Who?
He breath'd our human breath,
By sinlessness did sin subdue,
And conquer'd death by death.

The wondrous forty days are o'er,
No more when dawn is red
He stands upon the wild seashore,
Or breaks the hallow'd bread.

Sweet sang the angels when they saw
To Him our nature given,
Who silent hail in rapturous awe,
That nature borne to Heaven.

Our King is gone to the far land
To triumph, and return;
Not idly gazing up we stand,
And not in vain we yearn.

The talents that He gave, we hold
For Him to occupy,
Tho' He have pass'd the gates of gold,
His Presence still is nigh;

In sweet outpourings of His grace,
In prayer, and holy rite,
And still we wait to see His face.
And still the cloud is bright.