Yonder, see the Lord descending, Hark! His chariot’s drawing near; Starry worlds before Him rending, Flaming troops do now appear. Heaven shaking, earth is quaking, Mountains fly before His face, See the dead their graves forsaking, Nature sinking in a blaze. Now behold the shining conquerors, Rising from their dusty beds, Fly to meet their blessèd Savior, Glittering crowns upon their heads; Hear them tell their pleasing story To their smiling, lovely king, Glory, glory, glory, glory, Glory is the song they sing. Once an infant in a manger, There the Lord of glory lay; No place for that little stranger But upon the oxen’s hay; Now He’s crownèd with a rainbow Brighter than a sardius stone; Now He comes—the Christian sees Him Seated on His great white throne.