Day of wrath, that day whose knell­ing
Gives to flame this earth­ly dwell­ing;
Psalm and pro­phet thus fore­tell­ing.
Oh, what ago­ny of trem­bling,
When the Judge man­kind as­sem­bling,
Probeth all be­yond dis­sem­bling.

Pealing won­drous through the re­gions,
Shall the trum­pet force obe­di­ence,
And the graves yield up their le­gions.
Startled death and na­ture sick­en,
Thus to see the crea­ture quick­en,
Waiting judg­ment terror-strick­en.

Open, then, with all re­cord­ed,
Stands the book from whence award­ed
Doom shall pass with deed ac­cord­ed.
When the Judge is throned in ses­sion,
All things hid shall find con­fess­ion,
Unavenged be no trans­gres­sion,

Wretch, what then shall be my plead­ing?
Who my pa­tron in­ter­ced­ing?
Scarce the just sec­ure­ly speed­ing.
Thou, O King of aw­ful splen­dor,
Saving grace dost free­ly ren­der;
Save me, fount of pi­ty ten­der.

Think, ’twas I, my lost con­di­tion,
Caused, O pi­ty­ing Lord, Thy mis­sion;
Spare my soul that day’s per­di­tion.
Seeking me, Thy foot­step hast­ed;
Me to save, the cross was tast­ed;
Be not toil so migh­ty wast­ed.

Righteous Judge of re­tri­bu­tion,
Grant the gift of ab­so­lu­tion
Ere the day of res­ti­tu­tion.
Me my cul­prit heart ac­cus­es;
Inmost guilt my face suf­fus­es;
Heal, O Lord, Thy sup­pli­ant’s bruis­es.

Thou who Ma­ry’s sin has shriv­en,
Thou who brought the thief to Hea­ven,
Hope to me have al­so giv­en.
Nothing worth is mine en­dea­vor,
Yet, in ruth, my soul de­liv­er
From the flame that burns for ev­er.

With Thy sheep, Thy cho­sen, place me,
Severed from the goats em­brace me;
On Thy right hand, ran­somed, place me.
When the re­pro­bate con­found­ed
Lie with wrath­ful fire sur­round­ed,
May my call to bliss be sound­ed.

Crushed to dust and pros­trate bend­ing,
All my heart con­tri­tion rend­ing;
I im­plore Thee, guard my end­ing.
Oh, that aw­ful day of mourn­ing,
When, from earth­ly dust re­turn­ing,
Guilty man shall bide his sen­tence.