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Baldwin 274b/That Awful Day Will Surely Come
Shape-Note Gospel; The B. F. White Sacred Harp (Cooper Book) Tune: J. D. Arnold
Lyrics: Isaac Watts
ARTIST: The B. F. White Sacred Harp (Cooper Book) Tune: J. D. Arnold; Lyrics: Isaac Watts
CATEGORY: Traditional Shape-Note Gospel;
DATE: 1707-9 Watts
RECORDING INFO:
OTHER NAMES: "That Awful Day Will Surely Come"
SOURCES: Sacred Harp
NOTES: The lyrics to "Baldwin 274b" are from Isaac Watts circa 1707 and appear in The B. F. White Sacred Harp (Cooper Book). The title probably is named after Elizabeth Baldwin to whom the verse was ascribed in 1875. There is only a single verse:
274b Baldwin- The B. F. White Sacred Harp (Cooper Book)
First Line Index: That awful day will surely come, Tune: J. D. Arnold
Alto: B. P. Poyner, 1902; Lyrics: Isaac Watts
Meter: Common Meter (8,6,8,6)
That awful day will surely come,
Th’appointed hour makes haste,
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn test.
It appears in the Mississippi folklore register, Volume 6 - Page 42 Mississippi Folklore Society 1972 as a lined-out hymn:
Announcements (Lined out by Reverend Thomas)
That awful day will surely come.
That awful day will surely come.
Yes, for the night is almost here.
Elizabeth Baldwin.— On Nov. 14th, 1875, aged 63, Elizabeth Baldwin, of Maidenhead.
She lived with her parents until 14 years old, and then went to live with a person of Baptist principles. Whilst living there, she was convinced of her state as a sinner. This verse of Dr. Watts's was applied with power to her soul:
" That awful day will surely come,
Th' appointed hour makes haste,
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn test."
THAT AWFUL DAY WILL SURELY COME- Isaac Watts (1674-1748) Words: Isaac Watts, Hymns and Spiritual Songs, 1707-9.Music: Windsor, Christopher Tye, 1533; arranged in Booke of Musicke, by William Daman, 1591
That awful day will surely come,
Th’appointed hour makes haste,
When I must stand before my Judge,
And pass the solemn test.
Thou lovely Chief of all my joys,
Thou Sovereign of my heart!
How could I bear to hear Thy voice
Pronounce the sound, “Depart!”
The thunder of that dismal word
Would so torment my ear,
’Twould tear my soul asunder, Lord,
With most tormenting fear.
What! to be banished from my Life,
And yet forbid to die!
To linger in eternal pain,
Yet death forever fly!
O, wretched state of deep despair!
To see my God remove,
And fix my doleful station where
I must not taste His love.
Jesus, I throw my arms around,
And hang upon Thy breast;
Without a gracious smile from Thee
My spirit cannot rest.
O, tell me that my worthless name
Is graven on Thy hands;
Show me some promise in Thy book
Where my salvation stands!
Give me one kind assuring word
To sink my fears again,
And cheerfully my soul shall wait
Her threescore years and ten.
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