Laugh, Ye Profane

Laugh

ye pro­fane

and swell and burst

With bold im­pi­ety:

Yet shall ye live for ev­er cursed

And seek in vain to die.

The gasp of your ex­pir­ing breath

Consigns your souls to chains

By the last ago­nies of death

Sent down to fierc­er pains.

Ye stand up­on a dread­ful steep

And all be­neath is hell;

Your weigh­ty guilt will sink you deep

Where the old ser­pent fell.

When ir­on slum­bers bind your flesh

With strange sur­prise you’ll find

Immortal vi­gor spring afresh

And tor­tures wake the mind!

Then you’ll con­fess the fright­ful names

Of plagues you scorned be­fore

No more shall look like idle dreams

Like fool­ish tales no more.

Then shall ye curse that fa­tal day

With flames up­on your tongue

When you ex­changed your souls away

For van­ity and songs.

Behold

the saints re­joice to die

For Heav’n shines round their heads;

And an­gel guards pre­pared to fly

Attend their faint­ing beds.

Their long­ing spir­its part

and rise

To their ce­les­ti­al seat;

Above these ru­in­able skies

They make their last re­treat.

Hence

ye pro­fane

I hate your ways

I walk with pi­ous souls;

There’s a wide dif­fer­ence in our race

And dist­ant are our goals.