Fearful thought of endless doom—
Skies are rent, the Judge is come;
Clouds His throne; around Him stand
Angel guards, a countless band.
Hear the voice from shore to shore,
Tells that time shall be no more;
See the dead from dust arise,
Summoned to the great assize.
On His right are placed the just,
To the left the wicked thrust;
Well to Him are sinners known—
Known, but severed from His own.
These a blest retreat have won,
Earth’s delights who learned to shun;
Chose affliction, pain and loss,
Followed Him who bore the cross.
Cross, from which the Hebrew turned,
Cross, by haughty Gentiles spurned;
Thee with joy the righteous see,
But the lost with agony.
Deeper still their shame and dread,
Seeing Him whose blood they shed;
Lord, from sin Thy people keep,
Lest its dreadful fruit they reap.
Mingling joy with holy fear,
Praise we Him whose day is near;
Bless alike the Father’s name,
And the Spirit’s praise proclaim.