English poem
THE DAY OF WRATH.
by Helen M. Johnson (1834–1863)
The nations tremble, and the isles are moved; All cheeks are gathering paleness; lips are dumb That smiled in scorn but yesterday, or proved The day of wrath would not for ages come; Each eye is fixed—there seems nor life nor breath In that vast human sea,—but ah! it is not death.
The morning broke in splendor, as it rose Upon the fated Cities of the Plain; And men went forth refreshed from their repose, Where duty called them, or the love of gain; When sudden as the lightning's vivid glare Like heated furnace glowed the earth, the sea, the air.
From the Equator to the frozen Pole, All nations saw, and understood "the sign"; The seventh angel sounded! like a scroll The heavens departed, and a Form divine And awful in its grandeur was revealed,— The sun and moon grew pale, and earth astounded reeled.
Then rose a wail of anguish and despair— By men, by angels, never heard before; The tones of earth and hell were mingled there, Henceforth to be thus mingled evermore Beyond the reach of Mercy's loving ear, Who wept and pleaded once—but will no longer hear.
But hark! in contrast what a shout of joy Goes up to heaven; it tells of victory won O'er sin and death, o'er all that can destroy,— It tells of life eternal just begun,— Of bliss coeval with the endless years,— Of love that waited long for Him who now appears.
My soul consider—'t is no idle flight Of fancy, when she pictures thus the day When sun and planets shall withdraw their light, And heaven and earth like smoke shall pass away; God hath declared it; and our Saviour hath, And lo, it hastens fast—that dreadful day of wrath.
Where wilt thou find a shelter from the storm? Not wealth, nor power, nor friends can succor then; How wilt thou gaze upon that glorious Form That seals the doom of angels and of men? How wilt thou stand before the judgment seat And every idle word, and thought, and action meet?
O Lamb of God whose blood was shed for me,— Redeemer, Saviour, Lover of mankind,— Spread over me thy robes that I in Thee A shelter from that dreadful storm may find,— And calm amid the tumult and despair Look at the great white throne, and see my Surety there!