|Location in The Sacred Harp|
Death! ítis a melancholy Day
To those that have no GOD,
When the poor Soul is forcíd away
To seek her last Abode.
Tribulation 29b, Stanza 1
In vain to Heavín she lifts her Eyes;
But Guilt, a heavy Chain,
Still drags her downward from the Skies,
To Darkness, Fire, and Pain.
Tribulation 29b, Stanza 2
Awake and mourn, ye Heirs of Hell;
Let stubborn Sinners fear:
You must be driven from Earth, and dwell
A long FOR EVER there.
See how the Pit gapes wide for you,
And flashes in your Face;
And thou, my Soul, look downward too,
And sing recovíring Grace.
He is a GOD of sovíreign Love,
That promisíd Heavín to me;
And taught my Thoughts to soar above,
Where happy Spirits be.
Prepare me, LORD, for thy right Hand;
Then come the joyful Day;
Come Death, and some celestial Band
To bear my Soul away.