Sing to the Lord, ye heav'nly hosts,

And thou, O earth, adore;

Let death and hell through all their coasts

Stand trembling at his power.

His sounding chariot shakes the sky,

He makes the clouds his throne;

There all his stores of lightning lie,

Till vengeance darts them down.

His nostrils breathe out fiery streams

And from his awful tongue

A sovereign voice divides the flames,

And thunder roars along.

Think, O my soul! the dreadful day,

When this incensed God

Shall rend the sky, and burn the sea,

And fling his wrath abroad.

What shall the wretch the sinner do?

He once defied the Lord;

But he shall dread the Thund'rer now,

And sink beneath his word.

Tempests of angry fire shall roll

To blast the rebel worm,

And beat upon his naked soul

In one eternal storm.