That awful day will surely come,
Th’appointed hour makes haste,
When I must stand before the Judge,
And pass the solemn test.

Thou lovely chief of all my joys,
Thou sov’reign of my heart!
How could I bear to hear thy voice
Pronounce the sound: Depart!

The thunder of that dismal word
Would so torment my ear,
‘Twould tear my soul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fear.

What! to be banished from thy face,
And yet forbid to die!
To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death forever fly!

O, wretched state of deep despair,
To see my God remove,
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste his love.

Recordings 1, 2