1 Thus evermore the saints’ avenging God
With His dread fires hath scathed th’unholy ground;
Nor wants there, waiting round th’uplifted rod,
Watchers in Heaven and earth, ay faithful found.

2 God’s armies open-eyed His aim attend,
Wondering how oft these warning notes will peal,
Ere the great trump be blown, the Judge descend:
Man only wears cold look and heart of steel.

3 Age after age, where Antichrist hath reigned,
Some flame-tipped arrow of th’Almighty falls;
Imperial cities lie in heaps profaned,
Fire blazes round apostate council-halls.

4 And if the world sin on, yet here and there
Some proud soul cowers, some scorner learns to pray;
Some slumberer rouses at the beacon glare,
And trims his waning lamps, and waits for day.