The Lord Has Come Down

The Lord has come down in a cha­ri­ot of cloud

The trum­pet is peal­ing por­tent­ous and loud;

Majestic He rides on the wings of the wind

And bears His dread mes­sage of wrath to man­kind.

He com­eth! He com­eth! the mount­ain it quakes

The voice of His thun­der each ec­ho awakes;

The my­ri­ads of Is­ra­el are heard to im­plore

That ac­cents of ter­ror be spok­en no more.

The black­ness

and dark­ness

and tem­pest

are past!

But lin­gers no mes­sage of love in the blast?

Oh! hark we in vain for some pi­ty­ing voice

To bid the de­spond­ing take hope and re­joice?

It speaks! but it is not from Si­nai’s dread form

Emblazoned in light­ning

and cur­tained in storm;

From Cal­va­ry’s sum­mit the word is ad­dressed

Come

weary and la­den

to Me and find rest.

Jehovah’s per­fect­ions ex­ult­ing have met

The Sure­ty has suf­fered—dis­charged is the debt;

And jus­tice and mer­cy unite to pro­claim

Salvation to sin­ners through faith in His name.

No more on the law shall I seek to re­ly

Appalled by its man­date

Ob­ey Me

or die;

All

all that I need

my dear Sav­ior can give;

How gra­cious His mes­sage—Be­lieve Me

and live!