John in vi­sion saw the day
When the Judge will hast­en down;
Heav’n and earth shall flee away
From the ter­ror of His frown:

Dead and liv­ing, small and great,
Raised from the earth and sea;
At His bar shall hear their fate,
What will then be­come of me?

Can I bear His aw­ful looks?
Shall I stand in judg­ment then,
When I see the op­ened books,
Written by th’Al­migh­ty’s pen?

If He to re­mem­brance bring,
And ex­pose to pub­lic view,
Every work and secr­et thing,
Ah, my soul, what canst thou do?

When the list shall be pro­duced
Of the tal­ents I en­joyed;
Means and mer­cies, how ab­used!
Time and strength, how mis­em­ployed!

Conscience then, com­pelled to read,
Must al­low the charge is true;
Say, my soul, what canst thou plead
In that hour, what wilt thou do?

But the book of life I see,
May my name be writ­ten there!
Then from guilt and dan­ger free,
Glad I’ll meet Him in the air:

That’s the book I hope to plead,
’Tis the Gos­pel op­ened wide;
Lord, I am a wretch in­deed!
I have sinned, but Thou hast died.

Now my soul knows what to do;
Thus I shall with bold­ness stand,
Numbered with the faith­ful few,
Owned and saved, at Thy right hand:

If Thou help a fool­ish worm
To be­lieve Thy pro­mise now;
Justice will at last con­firm
What Thy mer­cy wrought be­low.