Fly, to the mount­ains fly;
Sinners, on Christ rely!
Our strong mount­ain is the Lord:
He keeps off th’in­vad­ing bands,
He averts th’im­pend­ing sword;
Christ the Chris­tian’s fort­ress stands.

Happy who trust in Him,
Almighty to re­deem:
Neither wars nor plagues they fear,
Public ills they calm­ly meet,
Smile at de­so­la­tion near,
Trample death be­neath their feet.

But woes, re­doubled woes
Attend the Sav­ior’s foes:
Worldly men and things who love,
God, His things and peo­ple hate;
O what sor­rows will they prove,
Crushed by all His judg­ments’ weight!

Woe to the souls at ease,
The slaves of foul ex­cess;
Charged with sur­feit­ing, or wine,
Drunk with plea­sure, or with care,
Big with earth­ly low de­sign,
Fond of their at­tach­ments there.

Secure on earth who dwell,
They all His plagues shall feel;
Senseless, till the day op­press;
Thoughtless, till the ru­in come:
Pangs shall then their spir­its seize,
Earnest of their fi­nal doom.

But we Thy warn­ing take,
We, Lord, the world for­sake:
Thou hast kind­ly said, Be­ware,
Armed us by Thy word of grace,
Told us of the fa­tal snare
Spread for all the earth-born race.

Thy judg­ments we re­vere,
Thy speak­ing rod we hear.
Thou shalt keep our cau­tioned heart
Free from care, from plea­sure free:
Thou alone our por­tion art,
All our trea­sure is in Thee.

Thee let us still ob­ey,
And al­ways watch and pray;
Pray against the sore dis­tress,
Plagues, that on the world shall fall,
Counted, through Thy right­eous­ness,
Worthy to es­cape them all.

Worthy es­teemed through grace,
To stand be­fore Thy face;
Called to see our judge ap­pear,
Son of Man, with glo­ry crowned;
Glad th’arch­an­gel’s voice to hear,
Shouting at the trum­pet sound.

O wouldst Thou now des­cend,
And all our suf­fer­ings end!
Hear the Bride and Spir­it pray,
Hasten, Lord, the ge­ne­ral doom;
Bring the great tre­men­dous day,
Come away, to judg­ment come!