Sinner secure, the writing see!
Death, judg­ment, hell it speaks to thee;
The number of thy days
Is finished in a moment here,
With horror then thou must appear
Before thy judge’s face.

Weighed in the scale, thou wanting art,
And when thy soul and body part,
Thy guilty spirit flies
From earth, with kindred fiends to dwell,
Condemned the second death to feel,
The death that ne­ver dies.