Of the fighting of the fiends, whose defense is in God,
The just Lord of Hosts. The judgment is nigh
When each without fail shall find his reward,
Of weal or of woe, for his work on the earth
785 During the time of his life. ’Tis told us in books,
How from on high the humble one came,
The Treasure-hoard of honor, to the earth below
In the Virgin’s womb, the valiant Son of God,
Holy from on high. I hope in truth
790 And also dread the doom far sterner,