5 What shall the wretch the sinner do?
He once defy'd the Lord;
But he shall dread the Thunderer now,
And sink beneath his word.
6 Tempests of angry fire shall roll
To blast the rebel-worm,
And beat upon his naked soul
In one eternal storm.
* Made in a great sudden storm of thunder, August 20, 1697.
Hymn 2:63.
A funeral thought.
1 Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound,
My ears attend the cry,
"Ye living men, come view the ground
"Where you must shortly lie.
2 "Princes, this clay must be your bed,
"In spite of all your towers;
"The tall, the wise, the reverend head
"Must lie as low as ours."
3 Great God, is this our certain doom?
And are we still secure?
Still walking downward to our tomb,
And yet prepare no more?
4 Grant us the powers of quickening grace
To fit our souls to fly,
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
We'll rise above the sky.
Hymn 2:64.
God the glory and defence of Sion.
1 Happy the church, thou sacred place,
The seat of thy Creator's grace;
Thine holy courts are his abode,
Thou earthly palace of our God.