Hark, the crash of roar­ing thun­der,
Earth’s deep, yawn­ing ca­verns shake;
See the blaze of flash­ing light­ning:
Horrified, see na­ture quake.

See the moon, in dark­est mid­night,
Like a shield of flam­ing blood!
Blazing stars, like bleed­ing scars,
All the wound­ed skies be­stud.

Foaming oceans, fear­ful­ly heav­ing,
Seas and crack­ing mount­ains blend:
Maddening noise, the skies as­sault­ing,
Nature in its ang­uish rent.

Hear God’s pow­er as arch­an­gel trum­pet
Sounds abroad, and pierc­es the tomb;
Angels cry, with saints re­join­ing,
Loud the cry that shat­ters gloom.

Saints white robed, from graves they spring,
See the ho­ly, sanc­ti­fied rise,
Robbing death, sa­lut­ing their king,
As He cleaves the burn­ing skies.

Like a thief, He comes un­ex­pect­ed,
Rousing sin­ners from their dreams;
Now from tor­tured bo­soms break­ing
Hear their ang­uished, shriek­ing screams.

So, in pray­er, let all pre­pare,
Greet the Lord while grace is giv’n;
Else we hear the dread­ed sen­tence:
Wicked down to hell are driv’n.