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Lo he comes, the King of glory,
See, he rends the yielding sky;
Heavenly flaming guards attend him,
And the fearful lightnings fly;
|: Awful grandeur, :|
Sinner now thy doom is nigh!
Earth and elements dissolving,
Orbs of light their lustre lose;
The dread trumpets sound tremendous,
Bids the graves their dead disclose:
|: The pale nations :|
Now appear as friends or foes.
Thousand times ten thousand standing,
Bow before his radiant throne;
Summoned now to the tribunal,
What for sinners can be done?
|: Awful crisis, :|
When each ray of hope is gone!
Oh the dreadful consternation,
When they hear the sentence given,
Never more to be repealed,
Parting them from bliss and heaven;
|: And to tophet, :|
In confusion they are driven.
Oh may I at that dread moment,
In the Judge behold a friend;
Hear his voice in loudest accents,
Bid me to his throne ascend;
|: Join the chorus :|
That shall never, never end.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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8 7 8 7 4 7 extended
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Writer(s):
|
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Trans/Adapted:
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| |
Dates:
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1818
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Bible Refs:
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LIST OF LYRIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Year
|
Song #
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| 1818 | # 802 |
MUSIC
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Name:
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PAINSWICK
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Meter:
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8 7 8 7 4 7
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Writer(s):
|
|
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Dates:
|
|
LIST OF MUSIC SOURCES
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Hymn/Song Book
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Song #
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Key
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| # 289 | | | # 593 | |
echo ' | ';
|
Hymn Writer
