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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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