409. Thou Judge of quick and dead

Thou Judge of quick and dead,

Before whose bar severe,

With holy joy, or guilty dread,

We all shall soon appear;

Our wakened souls prepare

For that tremendous Day,

And fill us now with watchful care,

And stir us up to pray:

To pray, and wait the hour,

The awful hour unknown,

When, robed in majesty and power,

Thou shalt from heaven come down,

The immortal Son of Man,

To judge the human race,

With all Thy Father's dazzling train,

With all Thy glorious grace.

To sober earthly joys,

To quicken holy fears,

Forever let the Archangel's voice

Be sounding in our ears;

The solemn midnight cry,

"Ye dead, the Judge is come!

Arise, and meet Him in the sky,

And meet your instant doom!"

1 O may we thus be found,

Obedient to His word,

Attentive to the trumpet's sound,

And looking for our Lord.

8 O may we thus insure

Our lot among the blest,

And watch a moment, to secure

An everlasting rest.