The Lord, the Judge, be­fore His throne,
Bids all the earth draw nigh,
The na­tions near the ris­ing sun,
And near the west­ern sky.

No more shall bold blas­phem­ers say,
Judgment will ne’er be­gin;
No more ab­use His long de­lay
To im­pu­dence and sin.

Throned on a cloud our God shall come
Bright flames pre­pare His way;
As thun­der, dark­ness, fire and storm,
Lead on the dread­ful day.

Heav’n from ab­ove His call shall hear,
Attending an­gels come,
And earth and hell shall know and fear
His jus­tice, and their doom.

But ga­ther all My saints, He cries,
“That made their peace with God
By the Re­deem­er’s sac­ri­fice,
And sealed it with His blood.

Their faith and works, brought forth to light
Shall make the world con­fess
My sen­tence of re­ward is right,
And Heav’n ad­orn My grace.