1 And will the Judge descend?
And must the dead arise
And not a single soul escape
His all-discerning eyes?

2 And from His righteous lips
Shall this dread sentence sound;
And, through the numerous guilty throng,
Spread black despair around?

3 "Depart from me accursed,
To everlasting flame,
For rebel angels first prepared,
Where mercy never came."

4 How will my heart endure
The terrors of that day,
When earth and heaven, before His face
Astonished shrink away?

5 But ere that trumpet shakes
The mansions of the dead,
Hark, from the Gospel's cheering sound
What joyful tidings spread!

6 Ye sinners, seek His grace
Whose wrath ye cannot bear;
Fly to the shelter of His cross,
And find salvation there.