The Psalms of David ‎#II.CVII

II.CVII. That awful Day will surely come

1 That awful Day will surely come,
Th' appointed Hour makes haste,
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn Test.

2 Thou lovely Chief of all my Joys,
Thou Sov'reign of my Heart,
How could I bear to hear thy Voice
Pronounce the Sound, Depart?

[3 The Thunder of that dismal Word
Would so torment my Ear,
'Twould tear my Soul asunder, Lord,
With most Tormenting Fear.]

[4 What, to be banish'd from my Life,
And yet forbid to die?
To linger in eternal Pain,
Yet Death for ever fly?]

5 O wretched State of deep Despair,
To see my God remove,
And fix my doleful Station where
I must not taste his Love.

6 Jesus, I throw my Arms around,
And hang upon thy Breast;
Without a gracious Smile from Thee,
My Spirit cannot rest.

7 O tell me that my worthless Name
Is graven on thy Hands,
Shew me some Promise in thy Book
Where my Salvation stands.

[8 Give me one kind assuring Word
To sink my Fears again;
And chearfully my Soul shall wait
Her Threescore Years and Ten.]

Text Information

• First Line: That awful Day will surely come
• Language: English
• Publication Date: 1769
• Topic: Absence from God for ever intolerable; Hell : The Holy Fear of it

Tune Information

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