The Last Day.

A poem by Eliza Paul Kirkbride Gurney

The God of glory thundereth! who hath not heard His voice,
Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice?

Yes, yes, the sinner trembleth, for the Judge is on His throne,
Rendering to all a recompense for the deeds which they have done,
For the mercies they have slighted, and the time they have destroyed,
For the idols they have worshipped, and the talents misemployed.

But the pure in heart rejoiceth, because for him doth blend,
In the Judge of all the universe, a Saviour and a Friend;
He looketh up confidingly, with unpresumptuous eye,
And smiling says, "My Father, on Thy mercy I rely!"

The God of glory thundereth! How awful is His voice,
Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice?

Yes, yes, the sinner trembleth, for his robes are still defiled,
To the God of love and purity he is not reconciled;
Yet He is seated on His throne in fearful, dread array,
Before whose face both heaven and earth shall swiftly flee away.

But the pure in heart rejoiceth, for his robes are free from stain,
And not one dark, defiling spot shall cleave to them again;
Made white beneath the fountain which flowed from Jesus' side,
So as "no fuller on the earth could whiten them" beside.

The God of glory thundereth! still louder is His voice,
Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice.

Yes, yes, the sinner trembleth, for his day of grace is o'er,
The Bridegroom hath arisen, and closed is mercy's door;
That grace he long resisted, how did it plead in vain!
And now its sweet persuasive strains will ne'er be heard again.

But the pure in heart rejoiceth, his lamp is burning bright,
And welcome is the cry to him, though heard at dead of night,
"Behold, the Bridegroom cometh!" Oh, what joy to enter in
Where the nations that are saved, their Sabbath shall begin.

The God of glory thundereth! yet louder is His voice,
Bidding the sinner tremble, and the pure in heart rejoice.

Well may the sinner tremble, and quake with fear and dread,
For the last trump is sounding and the sea gives up her dead.
The Books, the Books are opened! awestruck his eyes behold
That in the unfolded Book of Life his name is not enrolled.

But the pure in heart rejoiceth, he hath heard a welcome home;
With songs of joy and gladness unto Zion he is come;
"Well done, thou faithful servant! to thee it shall be given
To see thy Saviour as He is, and reign with Him in Heaven."

But the great men and the captains and the chief men, where are they?
And the sellers of the souls of men upon this fearful day?
They are calling on the mountains and on the rocks to fall,
And hide them from the wrath of Him who died to save them all.

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