What madness to defy His power above,
To slight that blood which has their souls redeem’d;
To him who does his God sincerely love,
How painful ’tis to hear His name blasphem’d!
O let us flee these men of wicked minds,
Whose glory reaches not beyond the grave;
Who to accomplish their absurd designs,
Dethrone our King, and style the conquest brave!
Yet still He reigns, and shall for ever hold,
In massy chains the gloomy powers of Hell;
They soon His second coming shall behold,
And howling, see the place from whence they fell!
Ah! surely Satan’s thousand years are up,
And he once more is suffer’d loose to go!
His object is to stagger Israel’s hope,
And drag them captive to his den below!
Come down, O Lord! and bid thy thunders roll!
Send forth thy lightnings, and thy foes consume!
O let them know that thou wilt them controul,
In each, and all the shapes which they assume!
Gird on thy sword, thou mighty matchless King!
Reclaim these poor deluded sons of men!
O save them from the cruel serpent’s sting;
And drive him back to his infernal den!
If Israel’s hope is not quite lost in death,
May these dry bones the Word of God receive!
Come from the four winds, O reviving breath,
And breathe upon these slain, that they may live!
ON VISITING FRYUP, DURING A GREAT REVIVAL.
O Fryup! far distant thy fame now extends,
Kind Heav’n doth thy breaches repair;
Thou land of religion, and bibles, and friends,
I rejoice to breathe thy pure air!