Psalms 50:3-6

• [Psa 50:4] Lord, The Sov­er­eign, Sends His Sum­mons Forth, The

  The Lord, the Sovereign, sends His summons forth, Calls the south nations and awakes the north; From east to west the sounding orders spread, Through distant worlds and regions of the dead: No more shall atheists mock His long delay; His vengeance sleeps no more: behold the day! Behold, the Judge descends, His guards are nigh; Tempest and fire attend Him down the sky: Heav’n, earth, and hell, draw near; let all things come To hear His justice, and the sinner’s doom: “But gather first My saints,” the Judge commands, “Bring them, ye angels, from their distant lands. “Behold, My cov’nant stands for ever good, Sealed by th’ eternal Sacrifice in blood, And signed with all their names; the Greek, the Jew, That paid the ancient worship or the new, There’s no distinction here; come, spread their thrones, And near Me seat My fav’rites and My sons. “I, their Almighty Savior and their God, I am their Judge: ye heav’ns, proclaim abroad My just eternal sentence, and declare Those awful truths that sinners dread to hear: Sinners in Zion, tremble and retire; I doom the painted hypocrite to fire. “Not for the want of goats or bullocks slain Do I condemn thee; bulls and goats are vain Without the flames of love; in vain the store Of brutal off’rings that were Mine before; Mine are the tamer beasts and savage breed, Flocks, herds, and fields and forests where they feed. “If I were hungry, would I ask thee food? When did I thirst, or drink thy bullocks’ blood? Can I be flattered with thy cringing bows, Thy solemn chatt’rings and fantastic vows? Are My eyes charmed thy vestments to behold, Glaring in gems, and gay in woven gold? “Unthinking wretch! how couldst thou hope to please A God, a Spirit, with such toys as these, While, with My grace and statutes on thy tongue, Thou lov’st deceit, and dost thy brother wrong? In vain to pious forms thy zeal pretends, Thieves and adulterers are thy chosen friends. “Silent I waited with long-suff’ring love, But didst thou hope that I should ne’er reprove? And cherish such an impious thought within, That God, the Righteous, would indulge thy sin? Behold My terrors now: My thunders roll, And thy own crimes affright thy guilty soul.” Sinners, awake betimes; ye fools, be wise; Awake before this dreadful morning rise; Change your vain thoughts, your crooked works amend, Fly to the Savior, make the Judge your friend Lest, like a lion, His last vengeance tear Your trembling souls, and no deliv’rer near.

  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 50:5] When Saints Gather Round Thee

  When saints gather round Thee, dear Savior, above, And hasten to crown Thee with jewels of love, Amid those bright mansions of glory so fair— Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. When those who have labored and struggled to save Their loved ones from sorrow beyond the dark grave, Are bringing the treasures they gathered with care— Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. When life’s dreary billows are spent on the shore Beyond the dark river, and time is no more, When bright palms of glory the victors shall bear— Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. And when in bright garments Thy children shall stand, A crown on each forehead, a harp in each hand, And sing of the joys Thou hast gone to prepare— Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there.

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  source: Cyberhymnal