HYMN II. The Sinner's Fears

Alas! For I have seen the LORD, With a drawn Sword he stood; Now might he sheathe it in my Flesh, And bathe it in my Blood.

I've dar'd him with my mighty Sins, As if he was too slow; But now he comes both arm'd and girt, As an enraged Foe.

What shall a guilty Sinner do, When Justice does appear? O whither shall I flee from him, Whose Place is ev'ry where?

As I can neither stand nor fly, So neither can I bear The mighty Hand which grinds the Rocks, And doth Foundations tare.

My pale, my poor, my trembling Soul Does start at ev'ry Thing; It hourly fears huge Hosts of Wrath From this incensed King.

Should he but his Commission grant, All Creatures would engage Against me as their Foe profess'd, With an united Rage.

My Fears are just; I deserve Hell, And 'tis my proper hire; But who can dwell; O! who can dwell With everlasting Fire?