Poetry Archives

Saith the Lord, “Vengeance is mine;
  I will repay,” saith the Lord;
Ours be the anger divine,
  Lit by the flash of his word.

How shall his vengeance be done?
  How, when his purpose is clear?
Must he come down from his throne?
  Hath he no instruments here?

Sleep not in imbecile trust
  Waiting for God to begin,
While, growing strong in the dust,
  Rests the bruised serpent of sin.

Right and Wrong,—both cannot live
  Death-grappled. Which shall we see?
Strike! only Justice can give
  Safety to all that shall be.

Shame! to stand paltering thus,
  Tricked by the balancing odds;
Strike! God is waiting for us!
  Strike! for the vengeance is God’s.