1 When the great Judge, supreme and just, Shall once inquire for blood, The humble souls, that mourn in dust, Shall find a faithful God.
2 He from the dreadful gates of death Does his own children raise: In Zion's gates, with cheerful breath, They sing their Father's praise.
3 His foes shall fail with heedless feet Into the pit they made; And sinners perish in the net That their own hands had spread.
4 Thus by thy judgments, mighty God! Are thy deep counsels known; When men of mischief are destroy'd, The snare must be their own.