Dark brood the heav’ns o’er thee,
Black clouds are gath’ring fast;
In aw­ful pow­er thy God has come,
Thy days of mirth are past.

Dark brood the heav’ns o’er thee,
Red flames are burst­ing round;
Bright light­nings flash, loud thun­ders roar,
How shakes the trem­bling ground!

Dark brood the heav’ns o’er thee,
Behold, the Judge ap­pears;
Unnumbered mill­ions throng around,
Raised from the dust of years.

Dark brood the heav’ns o’er thee,
Soon thou wilt hear thy doom;
Destruction op­ens wide for thee,
Thy chos­en, fi­nal home.

Yet wait, the vi­sion stays;
Why sin­ner, wilt thou die?
Dark brood the heav’ns—but mer­cy waits;
This hour to Je­sus fly!