1 The day approacheth, O my soul,
The great decisive day,
Which from the verge of mortal life
Shall bear thee far away.

2 Another day more awful dawns;
And lo, the Judge appears;
Ye heav’ns, retire before His face,
And sink, ye darkened stars.

3 Yet does one short preparing hour,
One precious hour remain;
Rouse thee, my soul, with all thy power,
Nor let it pass in vain.

4 With me my brethren soon must die,
And at that bar appear:
Now be our intercourse improved
To mutual comfort there.

5 For this, Thy temple, Lord, we throng;
For this, Thy board surround;
Here may our service be approved,
And in Thy presence crowned.