Oh What Amazing Horrors Seize

Oh what amaz­ing hor­rors seize

The sin­ner at his death!

With what re­luct­ance and des­pair

He yields his part­ing breath.

He gives a groan

and straight is gone

Where woe­ful spir­its dwell;

A vic­tim to eter­nal wrath

The quench­less flames of hell.

Some drops of this tre­men­dous storm

Might fall at times be­fore;

But now it bursts up­on his head

In one re­lent­less show­er.

Oh may I

ere it be too late

To Jesus’ cross re­pair;

From thence de­rive a cheer­ing hope

And find sal­va­tion there.

Supported by His pow­er­ful grace

And sprin­kled with His blood

I’ll rest se­cure from ev­ery ill

Nor dread an an­gry God.