Sinner, That Slumb’rest on the Brink

Sinner

that slum­b’rest on the brink

Of hell’s de­vour­ing lake

O think on death

on judg­ment think;

What mean’st thou

sleep­er? Wake!

Soon shall the Lord Him­self des­cend

The clouds be­fore Him driv’n:

A sud­den shout the earth shall rend

And shake the pow­ers of Heav­en.

Myriads of an­gels bright shall wait

His or­ders to ob­ey;

And ran­somed saints tri­umph­ant meet

As bright and blest as they.

The King shall send His sum­mons forth

His mes­sen­ger shall speed

From east and west

from south and north

To cite the quick and dead.

But

ah! what pale

what ghast­ly looks!

When guil­ty wretch­es come

To hear from God’s un­err­ing books

Their just tho’ dread­ful doom!

Convinced of ev­ery wan­ton word

Of ev­ery dar­ing sin

Of speech­es hard against the Lord

And thoughts and acts un­clean.

Save us

O Je­sus

by Thy death

And cleanse us in Thy blood;

Give us to live and die in faith

And wait the trump of God.