WHEN Thou, my righteous Judge, shalt come To fetch Thy ransomed people home, Shall I among them stand? Shall such a worthless one as I, Who sometimes am afraid to die, Be found at Thy right hand?
I love to meet among them now, Before Thy gracious feet to bow, Though so far short I fall— But can I bear the solemn thought, What if my name should be left out, When Thou for them shalt call?
O Lord, prevent it by Thy grace; Be Thou, dear Lord, my hiding-place, In this accepted day; Thy pardoning voice, O let me hear! To calm my unbelieving fear; Nor let me fall, I pray.
Let me among Thy saints be found, Whene’er the archangel’s trump shall sound, To see Thy smiling face; Then loudest of that throng I’ll sing, When Heaven’s resounding mansions ring With songs of sovereign grace.
Lady Huntingdon’s Hymnbook, 1774