1 How dreadful, Lord, will be the day
When all the tribes of dead shall rise;
And those who dare to disobey,
Be dragged before Thine angry eyes!
2 The wicked child, who often heard
His pious parents speak of Thee,
And fled from every serious word,
Shall not be able then to flee.
3 No; he shall see them burst the tomb,
And rise, and leave him trembling there,
To hear his everlasting doom,
With shame, and terror, and despair.
4 Whilst they appear at Thy right hand,
With saints and angels round the throne,
He, a poor guilty wretch, shall stand,
And bear Thy dreadful wrath, alone!
5 No parent then shall bid him pray
To Him who now the sinner hears;
For Christ Himself shall turn away,
And show no pity to his tears.
6 Great God! I tremble at the thought,
And at Thy feet for mercy bend,
That when to judgment I am brought,
The Judge Himself may be my friend.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #11015
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