The Day, the Dreadful Day, Draws Nigh

The day

the dread­ful day draws nigh

When God in judg­ment shall ap­pear

Shall by His laws His peo­ple try

And prove with scru­ti­ny sev­ere

The sin­ners set­tled on their lees

And pun­ish all that dwell at ease.

The men whose hearts de­ny His love

His guard­ian love and right­eous sway

Who say Se­cure He sits ab­ove

And lets us each pur­sue our way

Nor will He e’er our deeds re­gard

Or pun­ish mor­tals

or re­ward.

On these the Lord His wrath shall show

And give them to the Wast­er’s pow­er

Stir up the fierce in­vad­ing foe

Their goods and hous­es to de­vour:

Houses they shall for oth­ers build

And sow

but nev­er reap the field.

For lo! the Lord’s great day is near

Is near

and swift­ly hast­ens on;

The migh­ty men shall cry for fear

And ang­uish while His wrath comes down

While God the sac­red pa­nic darts

And speaks in thun­der to their hearts.

Who can that aw­ful day de­clare?

A day of trou­ble and dis­tress

A day of rag­ing

waste­ful war

Of dark­ness

clouds and gloo­mi­ness

A day to join th’em­bat­tled pow­ers

And storm the forts

and shake the tow­ers.

The Lord shall bring a sud­den snare

The wick­ed by His judg­ments blind;

Because His ut­most plagues they dare

They here their pun­ish­ment shall find;

Their blood shall be as dust poured forth

Their car­cass­es shall dung the earth.

Not all their trea­sures shall re­deem

Their lives in that tre­men­dous day

When God’s great jea­lou­sy shall flame

Vindictive

and de­vour its prey

The land where­in their sins they dwell

Burn up—burn af­ter them to hell.

Turn then to God

ye sin­ners

turn

Let ev­ery heart at once re­lent;

The whole de­vot­ed na­tion mourn

By ge­ne­ral grief the curse pre­vent;

In pe­ni­tent­ial sor­row join

And de­pre­cate the wrath di­vine.

Repent be­fore the dire de­cree

Bring forth the ir­re­vo­ca­ble doom;

Before the day as chaff ye see

Pass by

be­fore the ven­geance come;

Before the Lord let loose His ire

And make you fu­el to the fire.

Or if the wick­ed will not hear

Ye hum­ble souls that keep His Word

Ye meek ones of the earth

rev­ere

And seek with dou­ble zeal your Lord;

Walk on in all His right­eous ways

And la­bor for the per­fect grace.

It may be God

the God ye love

Will hide you in His an­ger’s day

Far off from you the sword re­move—

Or if it sweeps your lives away

Your souls with swift­er mo­tion driv’n

Shall in a whirl­wind fly to Heav’n.