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ON THE LAST JUDGEMENT.
SING to the Lord ye heavenly hoſts,
And thou, O earth! adore,
Let death and hell through all their coaſts,
Stand trembling at his power.
His founding chariot ſhakes the ſky,
He makes the clouds his throne,
There all his ſtores of lightning lie,
Till vengeance dart them down.
His noſtrils breath out fiery ſtreams,
And from his awful tongue,
A ſovereign voice divides the flames,
And thunders roar along.
Think, O my ſoul, the dreadful day,
When this incenſed God
Shall rend the ſky, and burn the ſea,
And ſting his wrath abroad.
What ſhall the wretch the ſinner do?
That once defied the Lord,
But he ſhall dread the thunderer now,
And ſink beneath his word.
Tempeſt of angry ſtorms ſhall rage,
To blaſt the rebell'd worm.
And bear upon his naked ſoul.
In one eternal ſtorm.
Infinite joy or endleſs woe,
Attends on every breath,
And yet how unconcern'd we go,
Upon the brink of death.
FINIS.
