Judgment at the Door

God cometh

let the heart pre­pare

Let all be swept and gar­nished there.

Not as the Babe of Beth­lehem:

He comes to doom

to di­adem.

Not as the scorned

the cru­ci­fied

The Bride­groom seeks His wait­ing bride.

With clouds He comes

and ev­ery eye

Shall see the Judge of souls draw nigh.

The trump shall sound

and co­horts bright

Will swell His train of won­drous might.

Behold

He stand­eth at the door

The Christ whose pity we im­plore.

God com­eth

let the heart pre­pare

Deep let the Cross be plant­ed there.

So when the sign in Heav­en ap­pears

The Cross with­in shall stay our fears.