A dread hath come on me,
I know not where to flee,
My pow’rs can naught avail me;
My trem­bling limbs grow weak,
My lips re­fuse to speak,
My heart and sens­es fail me.

For think­ing on that sound
That once shall pierce the ground
And make its slum­ber­ers trem­ble,
Arise! the day of doom
Is come at last—is come!
Before the Judge as­sem­ble!

Ah God! no tem­pest’s shock
That cleaves the so­lid rock
Could make my spi­rit shi­ver
As doth that aw­ful tone;
Were my heart steel or stone
’Twould hear that voice and qui­ver.

I eat, or wake, or sleep,
I talk, or smile, or weep,
Yet still that voice of thun­der
Is sound­ing through my heart—
Forget not what thou art,
The doom thou li­est un­der!

For dai­ly do I see
How ma­ny deaths there be,
How swift­ly all things wither;
How sick­ness fills the grave,
Or fire, or sword, or wave
Is sweep­ing thou­sands thi­ther.

My turn will soon be here,
The end is draw­ing near,
I hear its warn­ing plain­ly;
Death knock­eth at my door
And tells me all is o’er,
And I would fly him vain­ly.

Ah! who in this my strait
Will be mine ad­vo­cate?
Will all things leave me friend­less?
My wealth and pow­er are dust,
This Judge is ev­er just,
His right­eous doom is end­less.

Lord Je­sus Christ! ’tis Thou
Alone canst help me now,
But ’twas for this Thou cam­est,
To save us in this hour—
Then show Thy mer­cy’s pow­er,
For they are safe Thou claim­est.

Speak Thou for me! Thou art
The re­fuge of my heart;
With glad­ness let me hear Thee;
Bid me to Thee as­cend,
Where praise shall ne­ver end,
And love shall aye be near Thee.