In the quiet marketplace, a hush falls like a gentle rain,
Streets devoid of bustling life, a tranquil, silent domain.
Builders' tools lay still, the harvest's time now complete,
Housewives pause, and in the courtroom, there's no more debate.

The King is coming, trumpets heralding His grand arrival,
Faces aglow with joy, lives redeemed from sin's survival.
Broken homes now mended, prisoners set free,
Children and the aged, hand in hand, a jubilee.

Charmed by the chariots' rumble, a marching throng unfolds,
God's trumpets proclaim the end, a story yet untold.
Regal robes cascade, the grandstand of heaven in place,
Choirs singing "Amazing Grace," a harmonious embrace.

O the King is coming, the King is on His way,
Trumpets sounding, His face shining like the break of day.
Praise God, He's coming, a divine symphony,
For you and me, the King is coming, forever to be.

January 8, 2023
Created by
MarkWaldrop

Taken from the song “The King is Coming”