4 Then should we see the saints above
In their own glorious forms,
And wonder why our souls should love
To dwell with mortal worms.

5 [How we should scorn these clothes of flesh,
These fetters and this load! 
And long for evening to undress,
That we may rest with God.]

6 We should almost forsake our clay
Before the summons come,
And pray, and wish our souls away
To their eternal home.

Hymn 2:62. 
God the thunderer; or,
The last judgment and hell.*

1 Sing to the Lord, ye heavenly hosts,
And thou, O earth, adore,
Let death and hell thro’ all their coasts,
Stand trembling at his power.

2 His sounding chariot shakes the sky,
He makes the clouds his throne,
There all his stores of lightning lie,
Till vengeance dart them down.

3 His nostrils breathe out fiery streams,
And from his awful tongue
A sovereign voice divides the flames,
And thunder roars along.

4 Think, O my soul, the dreadful day
When this incensed God
Shall rend the sky, and burn the sea,
And fling his wrath abroad.

5 What shall the wretch the sinner do? 
He once defy’d the Lord;
But he shall dread the Thunderer now,
And sink beneath his word.

6 Tempests of angry fire shall roll
To blast the rebel-worm,
And beat upon his naked soul
In one eternal storm.

* Made in a great sudden storm of thunder, August 20, 1697.

Hymn 2:63. 
A funeral thought.

1 Hark! from the tombs a doleful sound,
My ears attend the cry,
“Ye living men, come view the ground
“Where you must shortly lie.

2 “Princes, this clay must be your bed,
“In spite of all your towers;
“The tall, the wise, the reverend head
“Must lie as low as ours.”

3 Great God, is this our certain doom? 
And are we still secure? 
Still walking downward to our tomb,
And yet prepare no more?

4 Grant us the powers of quickening grace
To fit our souls to fly,
Then, when we drop this dying flesh,
We’ll rise above the sky.

Hymn 2:64. 
God the glory and defence of Sion.

1 Happy the church, thou sacred place,
The seat of thy Creator’s grace;
Thine holy courts are his abode,
Thou earthly palace of our God.

2 Thy walls are strength, and at thy gates
A guard of heavenly warriors waits;
Nor shall thy deep foundations move,
Fix’d on his counsels and his love.

3 Thy foes in vain designs engage,
Against his throne in vain they rage,
Like rising waves, with angry roar,
That dash and die upon the shore.

4 Then let our souls in Zion dwell,
Nor fear the wrath of Rome and hell: 
His arms embrace this happy ground,
Like brazen bulwarks built around.

5 God is our shield, and God our sun;
Swift as the fleeting moments run,
On us he sheds new beams of grace,
And we reflect his brightest praise.