Classic and Contemporary Poetry
DIES IRAE, by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: On that great, that awful day Last Line: Oh, who shall look on thee and live? Alternate Author Name(s): Macaulay, 1st Baron Subject(s): Bible; Religion; Theology | ||||||||
ON that great, that awful day, This vain world shall pass away. Thus the Sibyl sang of old, Thus hath holy David told. There shall be a deadly fear When the Avenger shall appear, And unveiled before his eye All the works of man shall lie. Hark to the great trumpet's tones Pealing o'er the place of bones! Hark! it waketh from their bed All the nations of the dead, In a countless throng to meet At the eternal judgment-seat. Nature sickens with dismay, Death may not retain his prey: And before the Maker stand All the creatures of his hand. The great book shall be unfurled, Whereby God shall judge the world; What was distant shall be near, What was hidden shall be clear. To what shelter shall I fly? To what guardian shall I cry? Oh, in that destroying hour, Source of goodness, source of power, Show thou, of thine own free grace, Help unto a helpless race. Though I plead not at thy throne Aught that I for thee have done, Do not thou unmindful be Of what thou hast borne for me; Of the wandering, of the scorn, Of the scourge, and of the thorn. Jesus, hast thou borne the pain, And hath all been borne in vain? Shall thy vengeance smite the head For whose ransom thou hast bled? Thou, whose dying blessing gave Glory to a guilty slave: Thou, who from the crew unclean Didst release the Magdalene: Shall not mercy vast and free Evermore be found in thee? Father, turn on me thine eyes, See my blushes, hear my cries; Faint though be the cries I make, Save me, for thy mercy's sake, From the worm, and from the fire, From the torments of thine ire. Fold me with the sheep that stand Pure and safe at thy right hand. Hear thy guilty child implore thee, Rolling in the dust before thee. Oh, the horrors of that day, When this frame of sinful clay, Starting from its burial-place, Must behold thee face to face! Hear and pity, hear and aid, Spare the creatures thou hast made. Mercy, mercy, save, forgive! Oh, who shall look on thee and live? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MYSTIC BOUNCE by TERRANCE HAYES MATHEMATICS CONSIDERED AS A VICE by ANTHONY HECHT UNHOLY SONNET 11 by MARK JARMAN SHINE, PERISHING REPUBLIC by ROBINSON JEFFERS THE COMING OF THE PLAGUE by WELDON KEES A LITHUANIAN ELEGY by ROBERT KELLY BATTLE OF IVRY by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY EPITAPH ON A JACOBITE by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY HORATIUS [AT THE BRIDGE], FR. LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME by THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY |
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