Hark! hear the sound, on earth ’tis found;
My soul de­lights to hear
Of dy­ing love, sent from above,
Of par­don bought so dear.

God’s min­is­ters, like flames of fire
Are pass­ing thro’ the land;
The voice is Hear, re­pent and fear,
King Je­sus is at hand.

Convinced of sin, men now be­gin
To call up­on the Lord,
Trembling they pray, and mourn the day
In which they scorned His Word.

God’s cha­ri­ots roll, they fright the soul
Of those who hate the truth;
But saints who hear, cry, Lord draw near,
Have mer­cy on the youth!

God grant a show­er of His great pow­er
On ev­ery ach­ing heart;
On all who sigh, and hum­bly cry,
That they may have a part.

Young con­verts sing and praise their king,
And bless God’s ho­ly name;
While old­er saints lay down their com­plaints
And rise to join the theme.