1 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!

2 Soon shall the Lord Himself descend,
The clouds before him riven:
A sudden shout the earth shall rend,
And shake the powers of heaven.

3 Myriads of angels bright shall wait,
His orders to obey;
And ransom'd saints triumphant meet,
As bright and blest as they.

4 The King shall send His summons forth;
His messengers shall speed,
From east and west, from south and north,
To cite the quick and dead.

5 But ah! what pale, what ghastly looks!
When guilty wretches come
To hear, from God’s unerring books,
Their just, though dreadful doom!

6 Convinced of every wanton word,
Of every daring sin,
Of speeches hard against the Lord,
And thoughts and acts unclean.

7 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.