1 Methinks the last great day is come,
Methinks I hear the trumpet sound
That shakes the earth, rends every tomb,
And wakes the prisoners under ground.
2 The mighty deep gives up her trust,
Awed by the Judge's high command;
Both small and great now quit their dust,
And round the dread tribunal stand.
3 Behold the awful books displayed,
Big with the important fates of men;
Each deed and word now public made,
As wrote by heaven's unerring pen.
4 To every soul, the books assign
The joyous or the dread reward:
Sinners in vain lament and pine,
No plea the Judge will here regard.
5 Lord, when these awful leaves unfold,
May life's fair book my soul approve:
There may I read my name enrolled,
And triumph in redeeming love.
The Hartford Selection of Hymns from the most approved authors, 1799