Before the dawn of endless day,
The Spirit moves in sovereign sway,
Across the earth in holy breath,
Awakening souls from sin and death.
The true Bride stands in spotless white—
Not every church, but those born right:
Regenerate hearts, by grace made new,
Who trust in Christ, the faithful few.
Born again through Spirit’s power,
Redeemed in this appointed hour,
She lifts her voice through every age,
A pure and spotless heritage.
“Come,” she cries, and heaven bends,
The Spirit joins as faithful friends;
“Come, Lord Jesus,” the regenerate call,
In unity that conquers all.
The thirsty raise their empty hands,
The truly seeking turn from sands;
The prisoner dreams of freedom’s gate,
The mourner finds his hope await.
Let every ear now heed the plea,
Let every soul born anew draw free
The living water, grace untold,
No merit earned, but love of old.
A promise breaks the waiting night:
“I come,” declares the Morning Light—
The Alpha, Omega, ever true,
The faithful Bridegroom comes for you.
So Spirit, Bride—true Church, reborn—
In union cry through every storm:
Come quickly, Lord, in glory bright,
Come claim Thy pure and spotless Bride.
Maranatha. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.
Passionately Pursuing Christ 