Behold! with awful pomp

Behold! with awful pomp
The Judge prepares to come;
The archangel sounds the dreadful trump,
And wakes the general doom.

Nature in wild amaze,
Her dissolution mourns;
Blushes of blood the moon deface;
The sun to darkness turns.

The living look with dread;
The frighted dead arise,
Start from the monumental bed,
And lift their ghastly eyes.

Horrors all hearts appal;
They quake, they shriek, they cry;
Bid rocks and mountains on them fall,
But rocks and mountains fly.

Great God, in whom we live,
Prepare us for that day;
Help us in Jesus to believe,
To watch, and wait, and pray.