O God, mine in­most soul con­vert,
And deep­ly on my thought­ful heart
Eternal things im­press;
Give me to feel their so­lemn weight,
And save me ere it be too late;
Wake me to right­eous­ness.

Before me place in dread ar­ray
The pomp of that tre­men­dous day,
When Thou with clouds shalt come
To judge the na­tions at Thy bar;
And tell me, Lord, shall I be there
To meet a joy­ful doom?

Be this my one great bu­si­ness here,
With se­ri­ous in­dus­try and fear
Eternal bliss to en­sure;
Thine ut­most coun­sel to ful­fill,
And suf­fer all Thy right­eous will,
And to the end en­dure.

Then, Sav­ior, then my soul re­ceive,
Transported from the vale, to live
And reign with Thee above,
Where faith is sweet­ly lost in sight,
And hope in full, su­preme de­light,
And ev­er­last­ing love.