Behold, the Awful Day Comes On

Behold

the aw­ful day comes on

When Je­sus on His right­eous throne

Shall in the clouds ap­pear:

With so­lemn pomp shall bow the sky

And

in the twink­ling of an eye

Arraign us at His bar.

But first th’arch­an­gel’s trump shall blow

Our scat­tered dust its voice shall know

And quick­en at the sound:

The sea shall then give up her dead:

And na­tions

start­ing from their bed

Shall cleave the op­en­ing ground.

Who shall with­stand His right­eous ire

When Je­sus sets the clouds on fire

And makes the earth re­treat?

In vain shall sin­ners then re­pent.

When each ex­pir­ing ele­ment

Shall melt with fer­vent heat.

The dead in Christ shall first awake

The faith­ful few

who

for His sake

On earth were jus­ti­fied:

Guarded by a ser­aph­ic band

Aloft they mount to His right hand

In whom they lived and died.

See next the guil­ty crowd arise.

Beholding

with re­luct­ant eyes

The glo­ries of the Lamb;

While taunt­ing fiends im­pa­tient wait

To hurl them from the judg­ment seat

To hell’s eter­nal flame.

Hark

as they mount

by de­vils borne

To meet their judge (on earth their scorn)

Despairingly they cry

Fall on us

rocks

with all your load

And screen us from the wrath of God

And hide us from His eye.

In vain on rocks and hills ye call

The rocks shall from their bas­es fall

And know their place no more:

The hills shall melt when God comes down

And mount­ains crum­ble at His frown

And groan be­neath His pow­er.

What thought can paint their black des­pair

Who this tre­men­dous sen­tence hear

Irrevocably giv’n

Depart

ye curs­èd

in­to hell

With ev­er­last­ing burn­ings dwell

Remote from Me and Heav’n?

But

O Thou Sav­ior of man­kind

Display Thy pow­er

and to the blind

Effectual light af­ford:

Snatch them from un­be­lief and sin

And now com­pel them to come in

And trem­ble at Thy word.

Methinks I hear Thy mer­cy plead

The voice of Him that wakes the dead

Doth ov­er sin­ners mourn:

“Why do ye still your God for­get

And mad­ly hast­en to the pit

From whence is no re­turn?

Ye rea­son­ers

make a ra­tion­al choice;

Listen

in time

to rea­son’s voice

Nor dare al­migh­ty ire:

Turn

lest the hot­test wrath ye feel

And find

too late

the flames of hell

No me­ta­phor­ic fire.