In Tyrannos Poem by Alfred Gibbs Campbell

I

Tyrants! your doom is nigh:
Short is your reign:
Your bondmen's wailing cry
To Heaven again
Hath risen, and the Infinite God
Whom ye have long denied,
Whom ye have long defied,
Prepareth his avenging rod
Whose chastisements shall fall,
And spread the hideous pall
Of desolation o'er your land,
And when your woe is direst, ye shall see
Those outraged bondmen, by the Lord set free,
Erect in majesty of manhood stand!


II

Though ye have said
'God is dead,'
Yet shall ye wake in dread
From your long and guilty dream:
Though his righteous judgments seem
Long delayed,
They are terrible and sure!
Though his mercy long endure,
Be afraid!
When his wrath, which seemed to sleep,
Shall arouse to its deepest deep,
It shall overwhelmingly sweep
Your refuge of lies away;
And in that day,
Beneath His rod,
Your souls shall say
'God is God!'


III

Too late shall ye believe!
Too late the truth perceive!
Ye have hugged the lie so long,
(Ye love it still,)
It hath bound its chain so strong
Around your will,
That ye cannot now turn back!
Ye chose Destruction's track
With open eyes,
And your vision now is sealed
Till the judgment be revealed!
That shall your souls surprise,
That shall unscale your eyes,
And in that day
With new-found sight
And new-discovered light,
Your souls shall see
Despairingly,
And, broken 'neath His rod,
In anguish say
'God is God!'


September, 1860.