When anger comes to the coast of our desolate country

And the sky is the color of armor,

We listen, in the silence of the cliffs and bays as still as steel,

For the cry that terrifies the sentinel.

And if it sound, oh! suddener than Java dancers

Face us all the swords we fear.

Well, we have arms: we will put them to trial.

But even as we wait, in hiding, for the unknown signal,

It is the Bridegroom comes like lightning where we never looked!

His eyes are angels, armed in smiles of fire.

His Word puts out the spark of every other sun

Faster than sunlight ever hid the cities

Of the fire-crowded universe!

How shall I stand such light, being dim as my fear?

Rob me, and make me poor enough to bear my priceless ransom;

Lock me and dower me in the gifts and jails of tribulation:

Stab me and save me with the five lights of Your Crucifixion!