Tuba mirum spargens sonum Per sepulcra regionum, Coget omnes ante thronum.
Mors stupebit et natura, Cum resurget creatura, Judicanti responsura. . .
The trumpet, scattering its awful sound Across the graves of all lands Summons all before the throne.
Death and nature shall be stunned When mankind arises To render account before the judge. . . Liber scriptus proferetur, In quo totum continetur, Unde mundus judicetur.
Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet apparebit. Nil inultum remanebit. . . The written book shall be brought In which all is contained Whereby the world shall be judged
When the judge takes his seat all that is hidden shall appear Nothing will remain unavenged. . . Quid sum miser tunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus, Cum vix justus sit securus? . . What shall I, a wretch, say then? To which protector shall I appeal When even the just man is barely safe?