A thousand trumpets mark Your path.
The lips of angels tremble and anticipate
As hour fast approaches,
For Gabriel’s stormy blast
Ushering the Age’s end,
When on the clouds You will descend,
To come again as way You went .
Sun of Justice with Spirit Sword,
Your Word to cut between the marrow and the bone,
All that stands the test of Fire,
You gather home.
Refuse and stubble
Immolated in furnace heat,
As passing in Your Hallowedness
You devour all That is not meet.
The trumpets’ blare give way
To music of celestial harps,
And Miriam song sounded strong.
As the martyrs chime,
Finally coming forth from beneath the Altar,
To sing their tune and time.
Holy chorus, at long last,
To celebrate and sing
For Salvation’s Mercy King.
© 2013 Joann Nelander
All rights reserved