The Lord Himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God. 1 Thessalonians 4:16
Sinner, that slumb’rest on the brink
Of hell’s devouring lake,
O think on death, on judgment think;
What mean’st thou, sleeper? Wake.
Soon shall the Lord Himself descend,
The clouds before Him driv’n:
A sudden shout the earth shall rend,
And shake the powers of Heaven.
Myriads of angels bright shall wait,
His orders to obey;
And ransomed saints triumphant meet,
As bright and blest as they.
The King shall send His summons forth,
His messenger shall speed,
From east and west, from south and north,
To cite the quick and dead.
But, ah! what pale, what ghastly looks!
When guilty wretches come,
To hear from God’s unerring books,
Their just tho’ dreadful doom!
Convinced of every wanton word,
Of every daring sin,
Of speeches hard against the Lord,
And thoughts and acts unclean.
Save us, O Jesus, by Thy death,
And cleanse us in Thy blood;
Give us to live and die in faith,
And wait the trump of God.