Few of us speak of what we fear
What makes the blood run cold?
What happens when the judgement’s near?
When arms of death unfold?
What happens at the point of death?
When flesh returns to earth?
That day The Lord receives the breath
He loaned to us at birth?
“Too late! Too late” could be the cry
When life gives up it’s lease
In vain we’d call to God on high
While pains of hell increase
Such torment strides the pit of shame
Through darkness thick and dense
Hungry is the avenging flame
That seeks no recompense
Yet fools will say that all is well
That life is fancy free
That after death there is no hell
We’ll only cease to be
Deceit, is Satan’s great delight
Through lies we’re chained and bound
Frivolity can steal our sight
And keep from hallowed ground
But wisdom teaches all too clear
Within God’s chosen throng
Who serve The Truth and God now fear
Will sing the victor’s song
The rest will have no time to wait
Once death has crossed their path
They’ll share the devil’s dreadful fate
Within the lake of wrath…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem