God, to correct a guilty world,
In wrath is slow to rise;
But comes at length, in thunder clothed,
And darkness veils the skies.

His awful banners, lifted high,
The nations’ God declare;
And stained with blood, with terrors marked,
Spread wonder and despair.

All earthly glo­ry, pomp and pride,
Are in His presence lost:
Empires o’erturned, thrones, scepters, crowns,
In wild confusion tossed.

While war and misery prevail,
And desolation wide,
In God, the sovereign Lord of all,
The righteous still confide.

Dark and mysterious is the course
Of His tremendous way:
His path is in the trackless winds,
And in the foaming sea.

Yet, though enveloped in the cloud,
And from our view concealed,
The righteous Judge will soon appear,
In majesty revealed!

Then will He curb the lawless power,
The deadly wrath of man;
And all the windings will unfold
Of His own gracious plan.

Then all the sons of tyranny
In ruin shall be hurled;
And light, and liberty, and bliss,
Embrace the new born world.