When the Great Judge

When the great Judge

su­preme and just

Shall once in­quire for blood

The hum­ble souls that mourn in dust

Shall find a faith­ful God.

He from the dread­ful gates of death

Does His own child­ren raise;

In Zi­on’s gates

with cheer­ful breath

They sing their Fa­ther’s praise.

His foes shall fall with heed­less feet

Into the pit they made;

And sin­ners per­ish in the net

That their own hands had spread.

Thus by Thy judg­ments

migh­ty God

Are Thy deep coun­sels known;

When men of mis­chief are de­stroyed

The snare must be their own.

The wick­ed shall sink down to hell;

Thy wrath de­vour the lands

That dare for­get Thee

or re­bel

Against Thy known com­mands.

Though saints to sore dis­tress are brought

And wait and long com­plain

Their cries shall not be still for­got

Nor shall their hopes be vain.

Rise

great Re­deem­er

from Thy seat

To judge and save the poor;

Let na­tions trem­ble at Thy feet

And man pre­vail no more.

Thy thun­der shall af­fright the proud

And put their hearts to pain;

Make them con­fess that Thou art God

And they but fee­ble men.