O what a sound was there!
’Tis na­ture’s fi­nal groan:
And Je­sus bids the world ap­pear,
Before His aw­ful throne.

The day at length is come,
As threat­ened, like a snare:
A source of end­less joy to some;
To oth­ers, of des­pair.

The Sav­ior is at hand,
Behold, He comes with clouds;
And an­gels, at their Lord’s com­mand,
Appear in joy­ful crowds.

But who may stand this day,
Destroying far and wide?
When Heav’n and earth shall flee away,
Who can the storm abide?

The saints alone shall stand,
The peo­ple of His love;
He sets them at His own right hand,
And gives them joy above.

Into His pre­sence brought,
They see Him face to face;
No oth­er place His peo­ple sought,
And now He grants this grace.