Brethren, the end is near,
Our Lord shall soon ap­pear:
These the days of ven­geance be,
Rumored ills the land dis­tress;
Wars on wars ye hear and see,
Ushering in the Prince of Peace.

His judg­ments are abroad,
Forerunners of our God;
Nation against na­tion fights,
Kingdoms against king­doms rise;
Signs above, and fear­ful sights,
Speak the an­ger of the skies.

The pow’rs of Heav’n He shakes;
Earth to her cen­ter quakes;
Famine shows her mea­ger face;
Pestilence stalks close be­hind;
Woes sur­round the sin­ful race;
Wrath abides on all man­kind.

The nations are dis­tressed,
The wick­ed can­not rest;
No, in sin they sleep no more,
Tossed with sad per­plex­ity;
Swell the waves, and work, and roar,
Men are like the trou­bled sea.

Terror their heart as­sails,
Their heart through ter­ror fails;
Fails, o’er­whelm­ed with huge dis­may,
Looking for the plagues to come,
Shrinking from their ev­il day,
Fainting at their in­stant doom.

But ye that fear the Lord,
Fear nei­ther plague nor sword;
Jesus bids your care de­part,
Ye in Je­sus’ love are blest;
Sprinkled is your peace­ful heart:
Now ex­pect the per­fect rest.

These threat­en­ing clouds look through,
Good they por­tend to you:
Lift your heads, with joy look up,
Find your full re­demp­tion near;
See your soul’s de­sire and hope,
See your glo­ri­ous Lord ap­pear.

His near ap­proach ye know,
Treated like Him be­low;
This the Word that Je­sus said,
Now your Mas­ter’s lot ye find,
Mocked, re­ject­ed and be­trayed,
Hated now by all man­kind.

In calm and qui­et peace
Your pa­tient souls pos­sess;
God hath kept your in­no­cence,
God shall still His own de­fend;
Rest in Him, your sure de­fense,
Suffer on, and wait the end.

His mer­cy’s wings are spread,
To guard your nak­ed head;
None can hurt you now, or grieve,
Hated though ye be by all:
No, with­out your Sav­ior’s leave,
Not one sac­red hair shall fall.