Come, O My Chosen People, Come

Come

O my chos­en peo­ple come

Far from the ev­il world re­tire

Wise to escape th’im­pend­ing doom

The weight of Heav­en’s vin­dic­tive ire.

Enter into thy sec­ret place

With si­lent awe thy God ad­ore

Hide thee for one short mo­ment’s space

And rest till all the wrath be o’er.

For lo! the Lord from Heav­en comes down

Vengeance on sin­ful man to take;

The world shall trem­ble at His frown

The earth shall to her cen­ter quake.

The earth shall at His word her blood

Disclose

nor long­er hide her slain;

The dead shall rise to meet their God

And sink in­to eter­nal pain.