938    8.8.6.     Lady Huntingdon’s Col., 1774
Longing for a place at God’s right hand

1 When thou, my righteous Judge, shalt come
  To take thy ransomed people home,
  Shall I among them stand?
  Shall such a worthless worm as I,
  Who sometimes am afraid to die,
  Be found at thy right hand?

2 I love to meet among them now,
  Before thy gracious feet to bow,
  Though vilest of them all;
  But can I bear the piercing thought:
  What if my name should be left out,
  When thou for them shalt call?

3 Prevent, prevent it by thy grace;
  Be thou, dear Lord, my hiding-place,
  In this the accepted day;
  Thy pardoning voice, O let me hear,
  To still my unbelieving fear;
  Nor let me fall, I pray.

4 Let me among thy saints be found
  Whene’er the archangel’s trump shall sound,
  To see thy smiling face;
  Then loudest of the crowd I’ll sing,
  While heaven’s resounding mansions ring
  With shouts of sovereign grace.