Scripture Verse

He that cometh after me is mightier than I, whose shoes I am not worthy to bear: He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost, and with fire: Whose fan is in His hand, and He will thoroughly purge His floor, and gather His wheat into the garner; but He will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire. Matthew 3:11–12


Charles Coffin (1676–1749)

Words: Charles Cof­fin, 1736 (Nunc su­is tan­dum no­vus e la­te­bris). Trans­lat­ed from La­tin to Eng­lish by Is­aac Will­iams, 1839.

Music: Croft’s 148th Will­iam Croft, in the Di­vine Com­pan­ion, or Da­vid’s Harp New Tun’d, se­cond edi­tion, by H. Play­ford (Lon­don: 1707) (🔊 pdf nwc).

Alternate Tune:

William Croft (1678–1727)


Lo! from the de­sert homes
Where he hath hid so long,
The new Eli­as comes,
In stern­est wis­dom strong;
The voice that cries
Of Christ on high,
And judg­ment nigh
From op­en­ing skies.

Your God e’en now doth stand
At Hea­ven’s op­en­ing door;
His fan is in His hand,
And He will purge His floor;
The wheat He claims
And with Him stows,
The chaff He throws
To quench­less flames.

Ye haughty mount­ains, bow
Your sky-as­pir­ing heads;
Ye valleys, hid­ing low,
Lift up your gen­tle meads;
Make His way plain
Your king be­fore,
For ev­er­more
He comes to reign.

May Thy dread voice around,
Thou har­bin­ger of Light,
On our dull ears still sound,
Lest here we sleep in night,
Till judg­ment come,
And on our path
Shall burst the wrath
And death­less doom.

O God, with love’s sweet might,
Who dost anoint and arm
Christ’s sol­dier for the fight,
With grace that shields from harm,
Thrice bless­èd Three
Heav’n’s end­less days
Shall sing Thy praise