I
My former hopes are fled,
My terror now begins:
I feel, alas! that I am dead
In trespasses and sins.
II
Ah, whither shall I fly?
I hear the thunder roar:
The law proclaims destruction nigh,
And vengeance at the door.
III
When I review my ways,
I dread impending doom;
But sure a friendly whisper says,
“Flee from the wrath to come.”
IV
I see, or think I see,
A glimm’ring from afar;
A beam of day that shines for me,
To save me from despair.
V
Forerunner of the sun,
It marks the pilgrim’s way;
I’ll gaze upon it while I run,
And watch the rising day.