1 The Lord, the sov'reign, sends his summons forth
Calls the south nations, and awakes the north;
From east to west the sounding orders spread
Thro' distant worlds and regions of the dead;
No more shall atheists mock his long delay;
His vengeance sleeps no more: behold the day!
2 Behold, the Judge descends; his guards are nigh,
Tempest and fire attend him down the sky.
Heav'n, earth and hell, draw near: let all things come
To hear his justice, and the sinner's doom:
'But gather first my saints,' the Judge commands,
'Bring them, ye angels, from their distant lands.'
3 Behold my cov'nant stands for ever good,
Seal'd by th' eternal sacrifice in blood,
And sign'd with all their names; the Greek, the Jew
That paid the ancient worship, or the new,
There's no distinction here; prepare their thrones,
And near me seat my fav'rites and my sons.
4 I, their almighty Saviour and their God,
I am their Judge: ye heav'ns, proclaim abroad
My just, eternal sentence, and declare
Those awful truths, that sinners dread to hear;
Sinners in Zion, tremble and retire;
I doom the painted hypocrite to fire.
5 Not for the want of goats or bullocks slain
Do I condemn thee; bulls and goats are vain
Without the flames of love; in vain the store
Of brutal off'rings, that were mine before;
Mine are the tamer beasts and savage breed,
Flocks, herds, and fields, and forests where they feed.
6 If I were hungry would I ask thee food?
When did I thirst, or taste the victim's blood?
Can I be flatter'd with thy cringing bows,
Thy solemn chatt'rings and fantastic vows?
Are my eyes charm'd thy vestments to behold,
Glaring in gems, and gay in woven gold?
7 Unthinking wretch! how could'st thou hope to please
A God, a Spirit, with such toys as these?
While with my grace and statutes on thy tongue,
Thou lov'st deceit, and dost thy brother wrong;
In vain to pious forms thy zeal pretends,
Thieves and adult'rers are thy chosen friends.
8 Silent I waited with long-suff'ring love,
But didst thou hope that I should ne'er reprove?
And cherish such an impious thought within,
That God the righteous would indulge thy sin?
Behold my terrors now; my thunders roll,
And thy own crimes affright thy guilty soul."
9 Sinners, awake betimes; ye fools, be wise;
Awake before this dreadful morning rise;
Change your vain tho'ts, your sinful works amend,
Fly to the Saviour, make the Judge your friend;
Lest, like a lion, his last vengeance tear
Your trembling souls, and no deliv'rer near.
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