Sing to the Lord, ye heav’nly hosts,
And thou, O earth, adore;
Let death and hell through all their coasts
Stand trembling at His power.
His sounding chariot shakes the sky,
He makes the clouds His throne;
There all His stores of lightning lie,
Till vengeance darts them down.
His nostrils breathe out fiery streams
And from His awful tongue
A sovereign voice divides the flames,
And thunder roars along.
Think, O my soul! the dreadful day,
When this incensèd God
Shall rend the sky, and burn the sea,
And fling His wrath abroad.
What shall the wretch, the sinner do?
He once defied the Lord;
But he shall dread the Thunderer now,
And sink beneath His Word.
Tempests of angry fire shall roll
To blast the rebel worm,
And beat upon his naked soul
In one eternal storm.