The Divine Apocalypse Poem by John Bowring

In the apocalypse sublime
The new created world shall see
Eternity embracing time,
Space swallowed in infinity;
Each sun, each star, each heavenly orb,
Shall one pervading light absorb.


No temple there, for boundless heaven
Shall be a temple; not a prayer
Shall by the trembling lips be given,
For all shall be devotion there;
All day, no darkness, no eclipse
In that divine apocalypse.


This world, these cycles, mortal life
And mortal death are but the scene
Of shifting, surging, struggling strife,
The powers of good and ill between:
Though in that strife, so rough and rude,
We see the conquering march of good.


But in the glorious time reveal'd
Each form of ill shall fade and fall;
And every, every wound be heal'd,
And God, our God, be all in all:
All light, all love, all God, all good,
An infinite beatitude!