The night is wide, yet one star holds its place,
a silver promise nailed against the sky;
the dark is deep, but dawn has touched its face
and left a quiet light for every eye.
The cold is fierce, yet somewhere spring lies curled
within the secret heart of the frost;
a single word still trembles through the world
and will not let one living thing be lost.

Maranatha.
Come, Dayspring, rise with healing in Thy wings,
come, Root of Jesse, bloom where winters cease;
come, Key of David, open hidden things
and set Thy captives into sudden peace.
Come, quiet Breath upon the waters blown,
and make the chaos hear Thee and be still;
come, set the longing heart upon Thy throne
and be the rest that only love can fill.

Maranatha.
The table waits with cup and living bread,
the lamps are trimmed, the bridal door ajar;
each heartbeat is a footstep in Thy tread,
each sigh a guiding signal to Thy star.
Come, take the cup and break the bread anew,
come, speak the mercy-name we barely dare;
come, turn the water into morning dew
and make the wounded world divinely fair.

Maranatha.
We have no crown but expectation’s fire,
no gift but waiting hands held open wide;
yet every breath repeats the heart’s desire
that soon the Bridegroom claim His waiting Bride.
Come, Morning Star, outshine our brightest sun,
come, Rose of Sharon, flood the desert plain;
come, fairest Lord, until our night is done
and beauty walks the streets of earth again.

Maranatha.
Come quickly, Lord, yet come as Thou know’st best;
come, Jesus, come, and make the whole world sing.
Come, lay Thy hand upon the trembling dust
and turn our winter into endless spring.
Come, Lord Jesus. Come, and we shall see Thy face, Thy glory, Thy eternity. Maranatha. Amen. Even so, come.