Quite suddenly, it may at the turning of a lane,
Where I stand to watch a skylark soar
From out of the swelling grain.
That the trump of God shall thrill me,
With its call so loud and clear,
And I'm called away to meet Him,
Whom of all I hold most dear.
Quite suddenly, it may be in His house I bend my knee,
When a Kingly voice long hoped for
Comes at last to summon me.
And the fellowship of earthlife
That has seemed so passing sweet,
Proves nothing but the shadow of
Our meeting round His feet.
Quite suddenly, quite suddenly.
Quite suddenly, it may be as
I lie in dreamless sleep.
God's gift to many a sorrowing heart,
With no more tears to weep.
That a call shall break my slumber,
And a voice sound in my ear,
Rise up, my love, and come away,
Behold, the Bridegroom's here.
Quite suddenly, quite suddenly.
Quite suddenly.
From "The Continual Burnt Offerings" by H.A. Ironside - Copyright 1998
