O Son of God, in glo­ry crowned,
The Judge or­dained of quick and dead!
O Son of Man, so pi­ty­ing found
For all the tears Thy peo­ple shed!

Be with us in this dark­ened place,
This wea­ry, rest­less, dan­ger­ous night;
And teach, O teach us, by Thy grace,
To strug­gle on­ward in­to light!

And since, in God’s re­cord­ing book,
Our sins are writ­ten, ev­ery one,
The crime, the wrath, the wan­der­ing look
The good we knew, and left un­done;

Lord, ere the last dread trump be heard,
And ere be­fore Thy face we stand,
Look Thou on each ac­cus­ing word,
And blot it with Thy bleed­ing hand.

And by the love that brought Thee here,
And by the cross, and by the grave,
Give per­fect love for con­scious fear,
And in the day of judg­ment save.