Divine Wrath

Thus ev­er­more

The saints’ av­eng­ing God

With His dread fires

Hath scathed th’un­ho­ly ground;

Nor wants there

wait­ing

Round th’up­lift­ed rod

Watchers in Heav­en and earth

Ay faith­ful found.

God’s ar­mies op­en-eyed

His aim at­tend

Wondering how oft

These warn­ing notes will peal

Ere the great trump

Be blown

the Judge des­cend:

Man on­ly wears cold look

And heart of steel.

Age af­ter age

Where An­ti­christ hath reigned

Some flame-tipped ar­row

Of th’Al­migh­ty falls;

Imperial ci­ties

Lie in heaps pro­faned

Fire blaz­es round

Apostate coun­cil-halls.

And if the world

Sin on

yet here and there

Some proud soul cow­ers

Some scorn­er learns to pray;

Some slum­ber­er rous­es

At the bea­con glare

And trims his wan­ing lamps

And waits for day.