Ye an­gels, put the sic­kle in,
The world is now ma­ture in sin,
The press is full, the vats o’er­flow;
The Lord’s de­cis­ive day is near,
And count­less mul­ti­tudes ap­pear
Before His judg­ment seat be­low.

The sun shall set in end­less night,
The moon and stars with­draw their light,
The shat­tered earth’s foun­da­tions groan,
The rui­ned heav’ns His wrath shall feel,
And nat­ure’s last con­vul­sions tell
That Is­ra­el’s strength re­mains alone!