1 My soul pursues no vulgar theme,
The force of wit, or beauty’s charm:
The last assize, the Judge supreme,
My inmost heart and soul alarm.
2 See where He comes with solemn state,
In cloudy chariot swiftly borne;
Myriads of angels on Him wait,
His awful progress to adorn.
3 A mighty trump the signal gives
That wakes the nations underground;
Affrights the sea, its dead revives,
Who hear alike the powerful sound.
4 Sublime in air is fixed a throne,
Wrought of a large and splendid cloud;
From hence the Judge to all is known,
Round this the trembling nations crowd.
5 Among the rest I must appear,
Before the glittering judgment seat:
O may I have no cause to fear,
But in the Judge the Savior meet!
6 Now would I make the Judge my friend,
Accept His grace, His laws obey;
Then with the Judge shall I ascend
To worlds of bliss and endless day.
Source: The Cyber Hymnal #9458