The Lord Hath Spoke, the Mighty God

The Lord hath spoke

the migh­ty God

Hath sent His sum­mons all abroad

From dawn­ing light

till day de­clines;

The list­en­ing earth His voice hath heard

And He from Si­on hath ap­peared

Where beau­ty in per­fect­ion shines.

Our God shall come

and keep no more

Misconstrued si­lence

as be­fore;

But wast­ing flames be­fore Him send:

Around shall tem­pests fierce­ly rage

While He does Heav’n and earth en­gage

His just tri­bun­al to at­tend.

Assemble all My saints to Me

Thus runs the great di­vine de­cree

That in My last­ing co­ve­nant live

And of­fer­ings bring with con­stant care:

The heav’ns His jus­tice shall de­clare

For God Him­self shall sen­tence give.

Attend

My peo­ple

Is­ra­el

hear;

Thy strong ac­cus­er I’ll ap­pear;

Thy God

thy on­ly God

am I:

’Tis not of of­fer­ings I com­plain

Which

dai­ly in My tem­ple slain

My sac­red al­tar did sup­ply.

Will this alone atone­ment make?

No bul­lock from thy stall I’ll take

Nor he-goat from thy fold ac­cept;

The for­est beasts that range alone

The cat­tle

too

are all My own

That on a thou­sand hills are kept.

I know the fowls that build their nests

In crag­gy rocks

and sav­age beasts

That loose­ly haunt the op­en fields:

If seized with hung­er I could be

I need not seek re­lief from thee

Since the world’s Mine

and all it yields.

Think’st thou that I have any need

On slaugh­tered bulls and goats to feed

To eat their flesh

and drink their blood?

The sac­ri­fic­es I re­quire

Are hearts which love and zeal in­spire

And vows with strict­est care made good.

In time of trou­ble call on Me

And I will set thee safe and free

And thou re­turns of praise shalt make;

But to the wick­ed thus sa­ith God:

How dar’st thou teach My laws abroad

Or in thy mouth My co­ve­nant take?

For stub­born thou

con­firmed in sin

Hast proof against in­struct­ion been

And of My word did light­ly speak:

When thou a sub­tle thief did see

Thou glad­ly didst with him agree

And with adul­ter­ers didst par­take.

Vile slan­der is thy chief de­light;

Thy tongue

by en­vy moved

and spite

Deceitful tales does hour­ly spread.

Thou dost with hate­ful scan­dals wound

Thy bro­ther

and with lies con­found

The off­spring of thy mo­ther’s bed.

These things didst thou

whom still I strove

To gain with si­lence

and with love;

Till thou didst wick­ed­ly sur­mise

That I was such a one as thou:

But I’ll re­prove and shame thee now

And set thy sins be­fore thine eyes.

Mark this

ye wick­ed fools

lest I

Let all My bolts of ven­geance fly

While none shall dare your cause to own;

Who prais­es Me

due hon­or gives

And to the man that just­ly lives

My strong sal­va­tion shall be shown.