When wild con­fu­sion wrecks the air
And tem­pests rend the skies,
Whilst blend­ed ru­in, clouds and fire
In harsh dis­or­der rise;

Safe in my Sav­ior’s love I’ll stand
And strike a tune­ful song,
My harp all trem­bling in my hand,
And all in­spired my tongue.

I’ll shout aloud, Ye thun­ders, roll,
And shake the sull­en sky;
Your sound­ing voic­es, pole to pole
In ang­ry mur­murs cry.

The earth, she tot­ters on her base,
And clouds the heav’n deform;
Blow, all ye winds from ev­ery place,
And rush the fi­nal storm.

Come quick­ly, bless­èd hope, ap­pear,
Bid swift thy cha­ri­ot fly,
Let an­gels tell thy com­ing near,
And snatch me to the sky.

Around thy wheels in glad­dest throng
I’d bear a joy­ful part;
All hal­le­lu­jah on my tongue,
All rap­ture in my heart.