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I saw, beyond the tomb,
The awful Judge appear,
Prepared to scan with strict account,
My blessings wasted here.
His wrath like flaming fire,
Burn'd to the lowest hell —
And in that hopeless world of woe,
He bade my spirit dwell.
Ye sinners, fear the Lord,
While yet 'tis called to-day;
Soon will the awful voice of death
Command your souls away.
Soon will the harvest close —
The summer soon be o'er —
And soon, your injured, angry God
Will hear your prayers no more.
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marker 99
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LYRICS
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Meter:
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6 6 8 6 (S.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Trans/Adapted:
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Dates:
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Bible Refs:
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MUSIC
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Name:
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VENICE
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Meter:
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6 6 8 6 (S.M.)
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Writer(s):
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Dates:
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1853
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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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| # 156 | D | | # 27 | Eb | | # 449 | Eb | | # 242 | Eb | | # 755 | Eb |
echo ' | ';
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Hymn Writer
