Scripture Verse

The Lord Himself shall descend from Heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise. 1 Thessalonians 4:16


Johann Crüger

Words: Is­aac Watts, Ho­ræ Ly­ri­cæ, Book 1, 1706, pag­es 74–76, alt. An ode, at­tempt­ed in Eng­lish Sap­phick.

Music: Herz­lieb­ster Je­su Jo­hann Crü­ger, New­es voll­köm­lich­es Ge­sang­buch Augs­burg­isch­er Con­fes­sion (Ber­lin: 1640) (🔊 pdf nwc). Bach used this mu­sic as the ba­sis for part of his St. Mat­thew Pas­sion.

Alternate Tunes:

Isaac Watts


When the fierce north wind
With his airy forces
Rears up the Baltic
To a foaming fury;
And flame of lightning,
With a storm of hail comes
Rushing amain down.

How the poor sailors
Stand amazed and tremble!
While the hoarse thunder,
Like a bloody trumpet,
Roars a loud onset
To the gaping water
Quick to devour them.

Such shall the noise be,
And the wild disorder,
If things eter­nal
May be like these earthly;
Such the dire terror
When the great archangel
Shakes all creation.

Tears the strong pillars
Of the vault of Hea­ven,
Breaks up old marble,
The repose of princes;
See the graves open,
And the bones arising,
Flames all around them!

Hark, the shrill outcries
Of the guilty wretches!
Lively bright horror,
And amazing anguish;
Stare through their eyelids,
While the living worm lies
Gnawing within them.

Thoughts, like old vultures,
Prey upon their heart strings,
And the smart twinges,
When their eye beholds the
Lofty Judge frowning,
And a flood of vengeance
Rolling afore Him.

Hopeless immortals!
How they scream and shiver
While devils push them
To the pit wide yawning,
Hideous and gloomy,
To receive them headlong
Down to the center.

Stop here, my fancy:
All away, ye horrid
Doleful ideas, come,
Now arise to Je­sus;
How he sits Godlike!
And the saints around Him
Throned, yet adoring!

O may I sit there
When He comes triumphant,
Dooming the nations!
Then as­cend to glo­ry,
While our hosannas
All along the passage
Shout the Re­deem­er.