A poet's hope: to be, like some valley cheese,local, but prized elsewhere
by Isaac Watts
The kingdoms of the world become the kingdoms of our Lord; or, The day of judgment.
Let the seventh angel sound on high,
Let shouts be heard through all the sky;
Kings of the earth, with glad accord,
Give up your kingdoms to the Lord.
Almighty God, thy power assume,
Who wast, and art, and art to come:
Jesus, the Lamb who once was slain,
For ever live, for ever reign!
The angry nations fret and roar,
That they can slay the saints no more
On wings of vengeance flies our God,
To pay the long arrears of blood.
Now must the rising dead appear;
Now the decisive sentence hear;
Now the dear martyrs of the Lord
Receive an infinite reward.