Mortals, give ear, the aw­ful day,
The last, the great as­size,
Advances swift as min­utes fly
The guil­ty to sur­prise.

That eye which sees thro’ dark­est shades
Of se­cre­cy and night;
That ear which ev­ery whis­per hears
Shall bring each deed to light.

How will the guil­ty trem­bling stand
To see their sins re­vealed?
And all their thoughts made pub­lic then
Which lay before con­cealed.

Horror and ang­uish seize their souls,
Despoiled of each dis­guise:
Despair now racks their guil­ty breasts,
And hope for ev­er dies.

Not so the right­eous—they shall stand,
Nor ven­geance them af­fright:
The Judge who good­ness loves will bring
Their sec­ret good to light.

Blushing with joy, the saint shall hear
Each pi­ous deed pro­claimed;
And see his name with hon­or shine
By ma­lice once de­famed.

Thus by an in­ter­pos­ing sphere
The sun is veiled in night,
But soon he shows his face with all
The ma­jes­ty of light.