My former hopes are fled,
     My terror now begins; 
I feel, alas! that I am dead
     In trespasses and sins.

Ah, whither shall I fly?
     I hear the thunder roar; 
The Law proclaims Destruction nigh,
     And Vengeance at the door.

When I review my ways,
     I dread impending doom: 
But sure a friendly whisper says,
     "Flee from the wrath to come."

I see, or think I see,
     A glimm'ring from afar; 
A beam of day, that shines for me,
     To save me from despair.

Fore-runner of the sun,
     It marks the pilgrim's way; 
I'll gaze upon it while I run,
     And watch the rising day.