The Day After Armageddon

’Tis the sum­mons to bat­tle!

But the cry is un­heard;

The trum­pet has spok­en

Not a war­ri­or has stirred.

Hark

the sum­mons to bat­tle!

It has sound­ed again;

Still loud­er and keen­er;

It has sound­ed in vain.

Yet a third time

and shrill­er

That war-note has blown;

But the an­swer that com­eth

Is the ec­ho alone.

’Tis the si­lence of si­lence!

Tower

tent

and vale

and hill

Field

for­est

and high­way—

All are sound­less and still!

No chal­lenge is lift­ed

No sig­nal un­furled;

’Tis man’s dark hour of ter­ror

The awe of the world.

For the arm of Je­ho­vah

Has been bared in its might

And the sword of His ven­geance

Has been bur­nished to smite.

Through the ridg­es of bat­tle

His plough­share has sped;

And the tents of the liv­ing

Are the tombs of the dead.

The rude roar of mill­ions

Is hushed in an hour;

The ar­ray of the migh­ty

Is crushed in its pow­er.

’Twas man’s proud­est mus­ter

Of sin­ew and steel:

His ar­my of arm­ies

Mail-clad to the heel.

No sun had e’er dawned on

So fear­ful a day

No trum­pet had mar­shaled

So dread an ar­ray.

As if earth in her fren­zy

From each re­gion afar

Had poured forth her na­tions

For the shock of that war.

In the flush of their man­hood

In the bud of their prime

In ve­ter­an ripe­ness

The men of each clime

Came throng­ing and rush­ing

Like riv­ers in flood

Defying the ter­rors

And ven­geance of God.

For the rul­er of dark­ness

The god of this world

Had sum­moned his ar­mies

His ban­ner un­furled.

As the storm-cloud it ga­thered

As the light­ning it sped;

As the mist it has van­ished;

All is still as the dead.

Like the de­sert at mid­night

Not a breath nor a beam;

’Tis the si­lence of si­lence

The dream of a dream;

Now

chains for the spoil­er!

Dark and swift be his doom!

Thou hast trod­den the na­tions—

Thy tread­ing is come!

Earth

cease now thy wail­ing

Thy wounds bleed no more;

Lo

the curse is de­part­ing

Thy sor­rows are o’er!

Thy long night is end­ing

Of sor­row and wrong;

For shame there is glo­ry

For weep­ing a song.

The new morn­ing is dawn­ing

Bursts forth the new sun;

The new ver­dure is smil­ing

The new age is be­gun.