Quite suddenly—it may be at the
turning of the lane
Where I stand to watch a skylark
from out the golden grain.
That the trump of God shall thrill me
with its call so loud and clear.
And I’m called away to meet Him
when of all I hold most dear.

Quite suddenly—it may be as I
tread the busy street.
Strong to endure life’s stress and strain
its envy call to meet.
That through the roar of traffic
a trumpet silver clear
Shall stir my startled senses and
proclaim His coming near.

Quite suddenly—it may be as I lie
in dreamless sleep.
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.

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