Page:Withgodbookofpra00las.djvu/229

 Comes each soul to closely sift.

Then, the trumpet’s shrill refrain,

Piercing tombs by hill and plain,

Souls to judgment shall arraign.

Death and nature stand aghast,

As the bodies rising fast,

Hie to hear the sentence passed.

Then, before Him shall be placed,

That whereon the verdict’s based,

Book wherein each deed is traced.

When the Judge His seat shall gain,

All that’s hidden shall be plain,

Nothing shall unjudged remain.

Wretched man, what can I plead ?

Whom to ask to intercede,

When the just much mercy need ?