THE day is come, the day of God’s fierce anger,
That forth against His foes doth burning go,
Nor yet doth leave untouched, in sore displeasure,
The righteous—for their purging from the foe.
From out its sheath, all furbished, made to glitter,
The sharpened sword, prepared to slay, is drawn,
And sore hath been the ruin and the slaughter,
Which mirthless greets the coming New Year’s dawn.
Who is Jehovah’s sword? Who but the wicked
That vaunt their greatness with unmeasured pride,
And loud against God’s Word and Law declaiming,
Despise the Christ their “culture” hath defied?
And who have furbished it but they, deceiving,
As having been deceived by “culture’s” light
To follow in the way of deadly conflict
Against that Word that’s true alone to Right?
Dost see not how with “culture’s” loud laudation,
Which leadeth unto deeds of ruthless might,
The nations round encircled have that people
Whose voice of action speaketh, “Might is Right.”
Whom shall it slay? For whom it was preparing,
Man is the sword that furbished was by man
For mutual destruction, hate impelling—
The bounds of frenzied passion who may scan?
E’en now what slaughter sore! To this it leadeth.
“Who take the sword shall by the sword be slain,”
Is written in the Book, and so it standeth
When sword and furbishers no more remain.
But yet another sword shall to its scabbard
The Sword of Judgment cause again return,
The Word, to man Jehovah’s Arm revealing,
The Spirit’s sword, for judgment that doth burn.
All furbished, made to glitter, forth it cometh
From out the fires of unbelieving scorn,
Attempered sharp, as utt’ring forth the warnings
Of plagues that from the womb of pride are born.
O Thou Incarnate, who in grace delightest,
Who lowly didst the Word with honor crown,
To whom all power in heaven and earth belongeth,
Consider Thy reproach, Thy Word cast down!
O send Thy Spirit forth, enduing richly
Ambassadors to whom Thy Word is dear,
Truth’s Banner ‘gainst the raging flood unfurling,
That from death’s gloom may spring a blest New Year.
W. M.