That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss; So both himself and us to glorify: Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep, The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep; With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang, While the red fire and smouldering clouds out brake: When, at the world's last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne. And then at last our bliss Full and perfect is, But now begins; for, from this happy day, The old Dragon, under ground |