Epode
Thou art come for the salvation of thy people,
For the salvation of thine anointed:
Thou dost smite off the head from the house of the wicked,
Laying bare the foundation even unto the neck.
Thou dost pierce with his own staves the head of his warriors:
(They came as a whirlwind to scatter me,
Their rejoicing was as to devour the poor secretly:)
Thou dost tread the sea with thine horses, the surge of mighty waters.
Postlude
I heard, and my belly trembled,
My lips quivered at the voice;
Rottenness entered into my bones, and I trembled in my place:
That I should rest waiting for the day of trouble,
When he that shall invade them in troops cometh up against the people.
For though the fig tree shall not blossom,
Neither shall fruit be in the vines;
The labour of the olive shall fail,
And the fields shall yield no meat;
The flock shall be cut off from the fold,
And there shall be no herd in the stalls:
Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,
I will joy in the God of my salvation.
Jehovah, the Lord, is my strength,
And he maketh my feet like hinds' feet,
And will make me to walk upon mine high places.
JOEL'S
RHAPSODY OF THE LOCUST PLAGUE
i
The Land Desolate and Mourning
Old Men