Scripture Verse

The day of God, wherein the heavens being on fire shall be dissolved, and the elements shall melt with fervent heat. 2 Peter 3:12


Henry Alford (1810–1871)
National Portrait Gallery


Words: Henry Al­ford, Psalms and Hymns Adapt­ed to the Sun­days and Ho­ly­days Through­out the Year (Lon­don: Fran­cis & John Riv­ing­ton, 1844), num­ber 118.

Music: St. Sav­iour (Gaul) Al­fred R. Gaul (1837–1913) (🔊 pdf nwc).

If you know where to get a good pho­to of Gaul (head & shoul­ders, at least 200×300 pix­els),


Day of an­ger, that dread day
Shall the sign in Heav’n dis­play,
And the earth in ash­es lay.
O what trem­bling shall ap­pear,
When His com­ing shall be near,
Who shall all things strict­ly clear!
When the trum­pet shall com­mand,
Through the tombs of ev­ery land,
All be­fore the throne to stand!

Death shall shrink and na­ture quake,
When all crea­tures shall awake,
Answer to their judge to make.
See the Book di­vine­ly penned,
In which all is found con­tained,
Whence the world shall be ar­raigned!
When the Judge is on His throne,
All that’s hid­den shall be shown,
Naught un­pun­ished or un­known!

What shall I be­fore Him say?
How shall I be safe that day,
When the right­eous scarce­ly may?
King of awful ma­jes­ty,
Saving sin­ners gra­cious­ly,
Fount of mer­cy, save Thou me!
Leave me not, my Sav­ior! one
For whose soul Thy course was run,
Lest I be that day un­done.

Thou didst toil my soul to gain;
Didst re­deem me with Thy pain;
Be such la­bor not in vain!
Thou just Judge of wrath se­vere,
Grant my sins re­mis­sion here,
Ere Thy reck­on­ing day ap­pear.
My trans­gress­ions griev­ous are;
Scarce look up for shame I dare;
Lord, Thy guil­ty sup­pli­ant spare!

Thou didst heal the sin­ner’s grief,
And didst hear the dy­ing thief:
Even I may hope re­lief.
All un­wor­thy is my pray­er;
Make my soul Thy mer­cy’s care,
And from fire eter­nal spare!
Place me with Thy sheep, that band
Who shall se­pa­rat­ed stand
From the goats, at Thy right hand!

When Thy voice in wrath shall say,
Cursèd ones, de­part away!
Call me with the blest, I pray!
Lord, Thine ear in mer­cy bow!
Broken is my heart and low:
Guard of my last end be Thou!
In that day, that mourn­ful day,
When to judg­ment wakes our clay,
Show me mer­cy, Lord, I pray!