I Saw, Beyond the Tomb

I saw

be­yond the tomb

The aw­ful Judge ap­pear

Prepared to scan with strict ac­count

My bless­ings wast­ed here.

His wrath

like flam­ing fire

Burned to the low­est hell—

And in that hope­less world of woe

He bade my spir­it dwell—

Ye sin­ners

fear the Lord

While yet ’tis called to­day;

Soon will the aw­ful voice of death

Command your souls away.

Soon will the har­vest close—

The sum­mer soon be o’er—

And soon

your in­jured

ang­ry God

Will hear your pray­ers no more.