Sing to the Lord, Ye Heav’nly Hosts

Sing to the Lord

ye heav’n­ly hosts

And thou

O earth

ad­ore;

Let death and hell through all their coasts

Stand trem­bling at His pow­er.

His sound­ing cha­ri­ot shakes the sky

He makes the clouds His throne;

There all His stores of light­ning lie

Till ven­geance darts them down.

His nos­trils breathe out fie­ry streams

And from His aw­ful tongue

A sov­er­eign voice di­vides the flames

And thun­der roars along.

Think

O my soul! the dread­ful day

When this in­cens­èd God

Shall rend the sky

and burn the sea

And fling His wrath abroad.

What shall the wretch

the sin­ner do?

He once de­fied the Lord;

But he shall dread the Thun­der­er now

And sink be­neath His Word.

Tempests of an­gry fire shall roll

To blast the re­bel worm

And beat up­on his nak­ed soul

In one eter­nal storm.