With rev­er­end awe, tre­men­dous Lord,
We hear the thun­ders of Thy Word;
The pride of Le­ba­non it breaks;
Swift the ce­les­tial fire des­cends,
The flin­ty rock in piec­es rends,
And earth to its deep cen­ter shakes.

Arrayed in ma­jes­ty di­vine,
Here sanc­ti­ty and jus­tice shine,
And hor­ror strikes the re­bel through,
While loud this aw­ful voice makes known
The won­ders, which Thy sword hath done,
And what Thy ven­geance yet shall do.

So spread the hon­ors of Thy name,
The ter­rors of a God pro­claim;
Thick let the point­ed ar­rows fly;
Till sin­ners, hum­bled in the dust,
Shall own the exe­cu­tion just,
And bless the hand by which they die.

Then clear the dark tem­pes­tu­ous day,
And ra­di­ant beams of love dis­play;
Each pros­trate soul let mer­cy raise
So shall the bleed­ing capt­ives feel
Thy Word, which gave the wound, can heal,
And change their groans to songs of praise.