Thou Judge of Quick and Dead

Thou judge of quick and dead

Before whose bar se­vere

With holy joy

or guil­ty dread

We all shall soon ap­pear.

Our cau­tioned souls pre­pare

For that tre­men­dous day

And fill us now with watch­ful care

And stir us up to pray.

To pray

and wait the hour

That won­drous hour un­known

When

robed in ma­jes­ty and pow­er

Thou shalt from Heav­en come down.

The im­mor­tal Son of Man

To judge the hu­man race

With all Thy Fa­ther’s daz­zling train

With all Thy glo­ri­ous grace.

To damp our earth­ly joys

To in­crease our gra­cious fears

For ev­er let the arch­an­gel’s voice

Be sound­ing in our ears.

The sol­emn mid­night cry

Ye dead

the Judge is come

Arise

and meet Him in the sky

And meet your in­stant doom!

O may we thus be found

Obedient to His Word

Attentive to the trump­et’s sound

And look­ing for our Lord!

O may we thus en­sure

A lot among the blest;

And watch a mo­ment to se­cure

An ev­er­last­ing rest!