Text: | Belshazzar |
1 Poor sinners! little do they think
With whom they have to do!
But stand securely on the brink
Of everlasting woe.
2 Belshazzer thus, profanely bold,
The Lord of Hosts defy'd.
But vengeance soon his boasts controul'd,
And humbled all his pride.
3 He saw a hand upon the wall,
(And trembled on his throne)
Which wrote his sudden dreadful fall
In characters unknown.
4 Why should he tremble at the view
Of what he could not read?
Foreboding conscience quickly knew
His ruin was decreed.
5 See him o'erwhelm'd with deep distress,
His eyes with anguish roll,
His looks and loosen'd joints, express
The terrors of his soul.
6 His pomp, and music, guests and wine,
No more delight afford.
O sinners, ere this ease be thine,
Begin to seek the Lord.
7 The law like this hand-writing stands,
And speaks the wrath of God;
But Jesus answers its demands,
And cancels it with blood.
Text Information | |
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First Line: | Poor sinners! little do they think |
Title: | Belshazzar |
Language: | English |
Publication Date: | 1803 |