Day of wrath, O dreadful day!
When this world shall pass away,
And the heavens together roll,
Shriveling like a dry, parched scroll,
Long foretold by saint and sage,
David’s harp and prophet's page.
Day of terror, day of doom,
When the Judge at last shall come!
Through the deep and silent gloom,
Shrouding every human tomb,
Shall the archangel’s trumpet tone
Summon all before the throne.
Then the writing shall be read,
Which shall judge the quick and dead;
Then the Lord of all our race
Shall appoint to each his place;
Every wrong shall be set right,
Every secret brought to light.
O just Judge, to whom belongs,
Vengeance for all earthly wrongs,
Grant forgiveness, Lord, at last,
Ere the dread account be past;
Lo! my sighs, my guilt, my shame!
Spare me for Thine own great name!
Thou, who bade the sinner cease
From her tears and go in peace,
Thou, who to the dying thief
Spoke sweet pardon and relief,
Thou, O Lord, to me has given,
E’en to me, the hope of Heaven.
