Scripture Verse

I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works. Revelation 20:12

Introduction

Words: Jane Tay­lor, Hymns for In­fant Minds 1809.

Music: Ir­ae, Jo­seph Barn­by (1838–1896) (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tunes:

If you know where to get a good pic­ture of Tay­lor (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),

portrait
Joseph Barnby (1838–1896)

Lyrics

How dread­ful, Lord, will be the day
When all the tribes of dead shall rise;
And those who dare to dis­ob­ey,
Be dragged before Thine an­gry eyes!

The wick­ed child, who oft­en heard
His pi­ous par­ents speak of Thee,
And fled from ev­ery se­ri­ous word,
Shall not be able then to flee.

No; he shall see them burst the tomb,
And rise, and leave him tremb­ling there,
To hear his ev­er­last­ing doom,
With shame, and ter­ror, and des­pair.

Whilst they ap­pear at Thy right hand,
With saints and an­gels round the throne,
He, a poor guil­ty wretch, shall stand,
And bear Thy dread­ful wrath, alone!

No par­ent then shall bid him pray
To Him who now the sin­ner hears;
For Christ Him­self shall turn away,
And show no pi­ty to his tears.

Great God! I trem­ble at the thought,
And at Thy feet for mer­cy bend,
That when to judg­ment I am brought,
The Judge Him­self may be my friend.

The words above were writ­ten for child­ren. The ver­sion be­low is more suit­able for ad­ults.
Adapted by Ri­chard W. Ad­ams, Ap­ril 9, 2017 (pub­lic do­main).

Alternate Version for Adults

How dreadful, Lord, will be the day
When all the tribes of dead shall rise;
And those who dare to dis­obey,
Be dragged be­fore Thine an­gry eyes!

The wick­ed man, who oft­en heard
His pi­ous neigh­bors speak of Thee,
And fled from ev­ery se­ri­ous word,
Shall not be able then to flee.

No; he shall see them burst the tomb,
And rise, and leave him tremb­ling there,
To hear his ev­er­last­ing doom,
With shame, and ter­ror, and des­pair.

While they ap­pear at Thy right hand,
With saints and an­gels round the throne,
He, that poor guil­ty wretch, shall stand,
And bear Thy dread­ful wrath, alone!

No friends shall bid him then to pray
To Him who now the sin­ner hears;
For Christ Him­self shall turn away,
And show no pi­ty to his tears.

Great God! I trem­ble at the thought,
And at Thy feet for mer­cy bend,
That when to judg­ment I am brought,
The Judge Him­self may be my friend.