The time is short;
the day draws near;
the dawning of that infinite age
draws inescapably closer as we
edge on into eternity, and the thick
blanket of night grows old.
The tremors of glory on the horizon
ripple through time and splash
upon the shore. The Ark of Heaven’s
doors creak with forebode;
the reddening sky swells.
Look! the Right Hand of Almighty Jah
looms on the horizon as thunder shatters
the distant skies.

Awake, awake o sleeping saint!
Hear the trumpet of God’s blessed Grace!
Awake to righteousness and put on Christ!
Let not thine heart grow dull nor weary,
let it not grow fat with pleasures and ease;
let not thine eyes grow dim, but let the lamp
of your body shine brightly to God’s glory!
May the One who gives light light upon thee
with fire and life! May you leap upon the hills
of holiness with Yeshua, Hind of the Dawn,
and may the presence of God’s Almighty Messiah
purge the dross of apathy!

Look! The Blessed Christ raises His hand to strike
the earth with the Rod of His Mouth! May we
don the breastplate of love and righteousness;
may we stay vigilant in thanksgiving,
may we put on Jesus Christ, that blessed
clothing of Heaven’s Highest – and fight!