1 When thou my righteous Judge shalt come
To fetch thy ransom'd people home,
Shall I among them stand?
Shall such a worthless worm as I,
Who sometimes am afraid to die,
Be found at thy right hand!

2 I love to meet among them now,
Before thy gracious feet to bow,
Tho' vilest of them all;
But can I bear the piercing thought?
What if my name should be left out,
When thou for them shalt call?

3 Prevent, prevent it by thy grace;
Be thou, dear Lord, my hiding place,
In this th' accepted day:
Thy pardoning voice, O let me hear,
To still my unbelieving fear;
Nor let me fall I pray.

4 Let me among thy saints be found,
Whene'er th' archangel's trump shall sound,
To see thy smiling face;
Then loudest of the croud I'll sing,
While heaven's resounding mansions ring
With shouts of sovereign grace.