Arise! St John! Immortal plume in palm
Proclaim the righteous indignation
Of the Lamb
Against ungodly deeds, ungodly darkness
The Eden, once green, turned to famine's barrenness
Take heed, O Man!
Come forth! Poor rustic fool!
But ever-filled with wisdom, from the throne
And ever shining
Discriminate the light from deadening night
Warn that injustice is discerned from right
The day's declining!
Meekness, orphan's sorrow
Offers no great, grand accounting for the morrow
And yet thou bleedest
The pen is thine, but judgment's fiery sword
Is committed to thy Master
For thus we read it!
Hold firm, St John! Hold fast, amid the storm
The stones of Patmos cry out, as wounded Abel
Pleads for mercy
There is no righteous resolution of the tempest
No peaceful day has dawned upon the better
Nor the worst
I see many wondrous things I dare not name
My heart is troubled, sorrow, misery, dread contrition's shame
And yet I know, if such truth's vouchsafed to thee
Tis truth enow to shield e'en such as me
Hold firmly, John, and drag me from the mire
To be with thee, to cling fast to our Heavenly Master
For this, please God, e'er shall be t'sum of my desire!