Scripture Verse

There is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day. 2 Timothy 4:8

Introduction

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Countess of Huntingdon (1707–1791)

Words: At­trib­ut­ed to the Count­ess of Hunt­ing­don, 1772.

Music: Me­ri­bah Lo­well Ma­son, 1839 (🔊 pdf nwc).

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Lowell Mason (1792–1872)

Anecdote

Said a pi­ous fa­ther in writ­ing to his friends, “On Jan­ua­ry last I dreamed that the day of judg­ment was come. I saw the Judge on his great white throne, and all na­tions were ga­thered be­fore him. My wife and were on the right hand; but I could not see my child­ren. I said, I can­not bear this; I must go and seek them.

“I went to the left hand of the Judge, and there found them all stand­ing in the ut­most des­pair. As soon as they saw me, they caught hold of me and cried, ‘O! fa­ther we will ne­ver part.’ I said, ‘My dear child­ren, I am come to try, if pos­si­ble, to get you out of this aw­ful si­tu­ation.’

“So I took them all with me, but when we came near the Judge I thought he cast an an­gry look, and said, ‘What do thy child­ren with thee now? They would not take thy warn­ing when on earth, and they shall not share with thee the crown in hea­ven; de­part ye cursed.’

“At these words I awoke bathed in tears. A while af­ter this, as we were all sit­ting to­ge­ther on a Sab­bath ev­en­ing, I re­lat­ed to them my dream.

No soon­er did I be­gin than first one, and then an­oth­er, yea, all of them, burst in­to tears, and God fast­ened con­vic­tion on their hearts. Five of them now re­joice in God their Sav­iour.

Long, pp. 226–27

Lyrics

When Thou, my right­eous judge shall come
To take Thy ran­somed peo­ple home,
Shall I among them stand?
Shall such a worth­less worm as I,
Who some­times am afraid to die,
Be found at Thy right hand?

I love to meet Thy peo­ple now,
Before Thy gra­cious feet to bow,
Though vil­est of them all:
But can I bear the pierc­ing thought?
What if my name should be left out,
When Thou for them shalt call?

O Lord, pre­vent it by Thy grace;
Be Thou my only hid­ing place,
In this, th’ac­cept­ed day;
Thy par­don­ing voice oh let me hear,
To still my un­be­liev­ing fear,
Nor let me fall, I pray.

Among Thy saints let me be found
Whene’er th’arch­an­gel’s trump shall sound,
To see Thy smil­ing face;
Then loud­est of the crowd I’ll sing,
While hea­ven’s re­sound­ing man­sions ring,
With shouts of so­ver­eign grace.