1 Saints, behold the mighty angel,
Standing on the earth and sea;
Lo, his hand he lifts to Heaven,
Swears that time no more shall be:
Awful moment,
Where shall now the sinner flee?

2 Short is time, e’en at the longest,
Man’s frail life is shorter still;
All his days are full of sorrow,
That will soon their course fulfil:
Happy mortal,
Who performs his Maker’s will.

3 May the awful hour approaching,
Sink within my thoughtless mind,
So that when l hence am summoned,
Cheerful I may feel resigned:
At that moment,
Let me, Lord, Thy mercy find!