A HYMN FOR
THE LAST DAYS
Quantum
accedit finis mundi crescunt
errores, crebrescunt terrores; crescit iniquitas,
crescit infidelitas. - AUGUSTINE.
Help, mighty
God!
The strong
man bows himself,
The good and
wise are few,
The
standard-bearers faint,
The enemy
prevails.
Help, God of
might,
In this Thy
Church's night!
Help, mighty
God!
Men turn
their ear away
From the
Great Voice Divine,
And each one
seeks his own
Dark
oracles of lies.
Help, God of
might,
Thine
enemies, Lord, affright!
Help, mighty
God!
The blind
now lead the blind,
Man has
become as God,
The tree of
knowledge now
Bears its
last, ripest fruit:
Help, God of
might,
For us come
forth and fight!
Help, mighty
God!
The Cross is
growing old,
And the great
sepulchre
Is but a
Hebrew tomb:
The Christ
has died in vain:
Help, God of
might,
Else shall
faith perish quite!
Help, mighty
God!
The Christ of
ages past
Is now the
Christ no more:
Altar and
fire are gone,
The Victim
but a dream
Help, God of
might,
Put the foe
to flight!
Help, mighty
God!
Men slight
the grace divine,
They mock the
glorious love;
And the great
gift [‘Prise’] of God
Is as a
thing of nought.
Help, God of
might,
The foe arise
and smite!
Help mighty
God!
The world is
waxing grey,
And charity
grows chill;
And faith is
at its ebb,
And hope
is withering:
Help, God of
might!
Appear in
glory bright!
-
HORITAUS BONAR,