Blow Ye the Trump, in Sion Blow

Blow ye the trump

in Si­on blow

That all may hear and un­der­stand

Their time of vi­si­ta­tion know

Sound an alarm through­out My land;

Let all the people quake for fear

The day

the ev­il day is near.

A day of gloom­iness and dread

A day of clouds and sore af­fright

As mists up­on the mount­ains spread

Dark as the deep­est noon of night;

A day where on­ly me­te­ors shine

A day of right­eous wrath di­vine.

Destruction from the Lord is come

The ter­ri­ble al­migh­ty Lord

To seal a guil­ty na­tion’s doom:

Lo! He hath bared th’av­eng­ing sword

And sent His hos­tile ar­mies forth

To plague

and waste

and shake the earth.

Lo! At His Word th’em­bat­tled pow­ers

Marching in dread ar­ray ap­pear!

A fire be­fore their face de­vours

A flame is kin­dled by their rear

Plague

fa­mine

fire and sword are joined

And ghast­ly ru­in stalks be­hind.

Before their face an Ed­en blooms

But where the ground­ed staff hath passed

Their breath the para­dise con­sumes

And lays the plea­sant land­scape waste;

No more the seat of joy and peace

But one great drea­ry wil­der­ness.

As horse­men har­nessed for the fight

They rush im­pe­tu­ous from afar

Borne head­long with re­sist­less might

Loud-rat­tling as the roll­ing car

Light o’er the mount­ain tops they bound

The vales with clang­ing arms re­sound.

As fire on crack­ling stub­ble feeds

And wins its de­so­lat­ed way

The migh­ty host de­struct­ion spreads

Wide wast­ing

and de­vours its prey

With noise con­fused

and shout­ings loud

And groans

and gar­ments rolled in blood.

Where’er they turn

the peo­ple fail

Pained and as­ton­ished at the sight

Their face o’er­spread with dead­ly pale

Their heart o’er­whelmed with huge af­fright

Helpless to stand the in­vad­er’s force

Or stop their all vic­tor­ious course.

Nothing against their might shall stand

While firm­ly ranked in close ar­ray

And mar­shaled by di­vine com­mand;

Secure they urge their ra­pid way

Or rise when fall­en on the sword

Unwounded cham­pi­ons of the Lord.

Swift to the slaugh­ter and the spoil

The fierce

in­vul­ner­able pow­ers

Shall run

shall fly; their foe­men foil

And scale the walls

and mount the tow­ers:

The earth be­neath their rage shall quake

The bat­tle­ments of Heav’n shall shake.

The sun no more shall rule the day

But set eclipsed in sud­den night;

The moon shall lose her pal­er ray

The stars with­draw their glim­mer­ing light;

The high­er powers shall dis­ap­pear

When God

the glo­ri­ous King

is near.

Before His dread­ful camp the Lord

Shall ut­ter His ma­jes­tic voice;

For He is strong

and keeps His Word

And all His venge­ful pow­er em­ploys

Against the world in that great day

When Heav’n and earth shall flee away.