Sinners, the City Where You Dwell

Sinners

the ci­ty where you dwell

Is doomed to fear­ful woe;

Those dark im­pend­ing clouds fore­tell

The quick des­cend­ing blow.

Sinners

the hid­ing place is nigh;

The Sav­ior calls—away—

He is the on­ly re­fuge—fly—

There’s dan­ger in de­lay.

Beneath you shall the trem­bling ground

Quake with the wrath of God;

While all above you and around

Shall roll the fie­ry flood.

Haste from your re­vels and your mirth

And all your car­nal joys;

The day of wrath is burst­ing forth;

Oh! hast­en to be wise.

Fly to the mount­ain

quick­ly fly;

Nor will your flight be vain;

’Tis God’s own house

and Heav­en is nigh

Stay not in all the plain.

Angels

sweet mes­sen­gers of love

Lend them your ra­pid wing;

And Thou

good Spir­it from ab­ove

All need­ful suc­cors bring.

Why do you tar­ry

trem­bling souls?

Haste ere the light­nings blaze;

Fly ere the rum­bling thun­ders call

Fly to the hid­ing place.