Oh that day, that day of ire,
Told of prophet, when in fire
Shall a world dissolved expire!

Oh what terror shall be then,
When the Judge shall come again,
Strictly searching deeds of men!

When a trump, of awful tone,
Through the cave sepulchral blown,
Summons all before the throne.

What amazement shall o’ertake
Nature, when the dead awake,
Answer to the Judge to make!

Open then the book shall lie,
All o’erwrit for every eye
With a world’s iniquity.

When the Judge His place has ta’en,
All things hid shall be made plain,
Nothing unavenged remain.

What then, wretched! shall I speak?
Or what intercessor seek,
When the just man’s cause is weak?

Jesus, Lord, remember pray,
I the cause was of Thy way:
Do not lose me on that day.

King of awful majesty,
Who the saved does freely free,
Fount of mercy, pity me.

Tired Thou sat, still seeking me—
Crucified to set me free:
Let such pain not fruitless be.

Terrible Avenger, make
Of Thy mercy me partake,
Ere that day of vengeance wake.

As a criminal I groan;
Blushing deep, my fault I own;
Grace be to a suppliant shown.

Thou who Mary did forgive,
And who bade the robber live,
Hope to me does also give.

Though my prayer unworthy be,
Yet oh set me, graciously,
From the fire eter­nal free.

’Mid Thy sheep my place command;
From the goats far off to stand,
Set me Lord, at Thy right hand.

And when them who scorned Thee here
Thou hast judged to doom severe,
Bid me with Thy saved draw near.

Lying low before Thy throne,
Crushed my heart in dust, I groan:
Grace be to be a suppliant shown.