’Tis sure, that aw­ful time will come,
When Christ the Lord of Glo­ry,
Shall from His throne give men their doom,
And change what’s tran­si­to­ry.
Who then will ven­ture to re­tire
When all’s to be con­sumed by fire,
As Pe­ter has de­clar­èd?

The wak­ing trum­pets all shall hear
Throughout the whole cre­ation;
And all the dead shall then ap­pear,
Placed in their pro­per sta­tion;
But all the liv­ing at that time
Shall, in a man­ner more sub­lime,
Endure a trans­mu­ta­tion.

The great ac­count shall then be read
Of all men’s lives and act­ions;
And young and old the sen­tence dread
Of their mis­deeds and fact­ions;
Here is no shel­ter for es­cape,
But all shall see the ve­ry shape
Thy soul has here con­tract­ed.

Woe then to him, that has des­pised
God’s Word and re­ve­la­tion,
And here done no­thing but de­vised
His lusts’ gra­ti­fi­ca­tion;
Then how con­found­ed will he stand,
When he must go at Christ’s com­mand
With Sa­tan to hell-torment.

Grant, Je­su, then my name be found
Within Thy book un­blot­ted,
When all with awe shall stand around
To hear their doom al­lot­ted;
Of which I doubt not in the least,
For Thou, as Sav­ior and high priest,
Hast pur­chased my sal­va­tion.

I know, as judge Thou shalt ap­pear,
As well as in­ter­ces­sor;
Yet hope, in hum­ble faith and fear,
Thou’lt call me Thy con­fess­or,
And bring me to that bless­èd place,
Where I shall see, with op­en face,
The glo­ry of Thy king­dom.

O Je­su! short­en Thy de­lay,
And hast­en Thy sal­va­tion,
That we may see that glo­ri­ous day
Produce a new cre­ation.
O come, O Lord, our judge and king!
Come, change our mourn­ful notes to sing
Thy praise for­ev­er, Amen.