The day, the dread­ful day draws nigh,
When God in judg­ment shall ap­pear,
Shall by His laws His peo­ple try,
And prove with scru­ti­ny se­vere
The sin­ners set­tled on their lees,
And pun­ish all that dwell at ease.

The men whose hearts de­ny His love,
His guard­ian love and right­eous sway,
Who say Se­cure He sits above,
And lets us each pur­sue our way,
Nor will He e’er our deeds re­gard,
Or pun­ish mor­tals, or re­ward.

On these the Lord His wrath shall show,
And give them to the Wast­er’s pow­er,
Stir up the fierce in­vad­ing foe,
Their goods and hous­es to de­vour:
Houses they shall for oth­ers build,
And sow, but ne­ver reap the field.

For lo! the Lord’s great day is near,
Is near, and swift­ly hast­ens on;
The migh­ty men shall cry for fear
And ang­uish while His wrath comes down,
While God the sac­red pa­nic darts
And speaks in thun­der to their hearts.

Who can that aw­ful day de­clare?
A day of trou­ble and dis­tress,
A day of rag­ing, waste­ful war,
Of dark­ness, clouds and gloo­mi­ness,
A day to join th’em­bat­tled pow­ers,
And storm the forts, and shake the tow­ers.

The Lord shall bring a sud­den snare,
The wick­ed by His judg­ments blind;
Because His ut­most plagues they dare
They here their pun­ish­ment shall find;
Their blood shall be as dust poured forth,
Their car­cass­es shall dung the earth.

Not all their trea­sures shall re­deem
Their lives in that tre­men­dous day,
When God’s great jea­lou­sy shall flame
Vindictive, and de­vour its prey,
The land where in their sins they dwell
Burn up—burn af­ter them to hell.

Turn then to God, ye sin­ners, turn,
Let ev­ery heart at once re­lent;
The whole de­vot­ed na­tion mourn,
By ge­ne­ral grief the curse pre­vent;
In pe­ni­tent­ial sor­row join,
And de­pre­cate the wrath di­vine.

Repent be­fore the dire de­cree
Bring forth the ir­re­vo­ca­ble doom;
Before the day as chaff ye see
Pass by, be­fore the ven­geance come;
Before the Lord let loose His ire,
And make you fu­el to the fire.

Or if the wick­ed will not hear,
Ye hum­ble souls that keep His Word,
Ye meek ones of the earth, re­vere,
And seek with dou­ble zeal your Lord;
Walk on in all His right­eous ways,
And la­bor for the per­fect grace.

It may be God, the God ye love
Will hide you in His an­ger’s day,
Far off from you the sword re­move—
Or if it sweeps your lives away,
Your souls with swift­er mo­tion driv’n
Shall in a whirl­wind fly to Heav’n.