Reveal’d from Sion’s sacred bound,
The seat with matchless beauty crown’d,
Our God his course shall downward bend,
Nor silent to his work descend.
At his approach the fire shall blaze,
And kindled pour its streaming rays;
Devouring flames shall march before,
And mightiest tempests round him roar.
Heav’n from above shall hear his call,
And thou the vast terrestial ball!
While man’s whole race their judge shall meet
In countless throngs before his seat.
‘My saints collect from distant poles,
Collect the just and faithful souls,
With whom my compact firm has stood,
Seal’d with the spotless victim’s blood.’
Th’applauding heav’ns, the changeless doom,
While God the balance shall assume,
In full memorial shall record,
And own the justice of their Lord.
James Merrick (1720-1769)
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