A Dread Hath Come on Me

A dread hath come on me

I know not where to flee

My pow’rs can naught av­ail me;

My trem­bling limbs grow weak

My lips re­fuse to speak

My heart and sens­es fail me.

For think­ing on that sound

That once shall pierce the ground

And make its slum­ber­ers trem­ble

Arise! the day of doom

Is come at last—is come!

Before the Judge as­sem­ble!

Ah God! no tem­pest’s shock

That cleaves the so­lid rock

Could make my spir­it shi­ver

As doth that aw­ful tone;

Were my heart steel or stone

’Twould hear that voice and qui­ver.

I eat

or wake

or sleep

I talk

or smile

or weep

Yet still that voice of thun­der

Is sound­ing through my heart—

Forget not what thou art

The doom thou li­est un­der!

For dai­ly do I see

How ma­ny deaths there be

How swift­ly all things wi­ther;

How sick­ness fills the grave

Or fire

or sword

or wave

Is sweep­ing thou­sands thi­ther.

My turn will soon be here

The end is draw­ing near

I hear its warn­ing plain­ly;

Death knock­eth at my door

And tells me all is o’er

And I would fly him vain­ly.

Ah! who in this my strait

Will be mine ad­vo­cate?

Will all things leave me friend­less?

My wealth and pow­er are dust

This Judge is ev­er just

His right­eous doom is end­less.

Lord Je­sus Christ! ’tis Thou

Alone canst help me now

But ’twas for this Thou cam­est

To save us in this hour—

Then show Thy mer­cy’s pow­er

For they are safe Thou claim­est.

Speak Thou for me! Thou art

The re­fuge of my heart;

With glad­ness let me hear Thee;

Bid me to Thee as­cend

Where praise shall nev­er end

And love shall aye be near Thee.