The day of the Lord. 
God, with one piercing glance, looks through
Creation's wide extended frame;
The past and future in his view,
And days and ages are the same.
Sinners, who dare provoke his face,
Who on his patience long presume,
And trifle out his day of grace,
Will find he has a day of doom.
As pangs the lab'ring woman feels,
Or as the thief, in midnight sleep;
So comes that day, for which the wheels
Of time, their ceaseless motion keep!
Hark! from the sky, the trump proclaims
Jesus; the Judge approaching nigh!
See, the creation wrapped in flames,
First kindled by his vengeful eye!
When thus the mountains melt like wax,
When earth, and air, and sea, shall burn;
When all the frame of nature breaks,
Poor sinner, whither wilt thou turn?
The puny works which feeble men
Now boast, or covet, or admire;
Their pomp, and arts, and treasures, then
Shall perish in one common fire.
LORD, fix our hearts and hopes above!
Since all below to ruin tends;
Here may we trust, obey, and love,
And there be found amongst thy friends.
 See also Book 2, Hymn 4