To-Day

To-Day

A sound of tumult troubles all the air,

Like the low thunder of a sultry sky,

Far rolling ere the downright lightning's glare;

The hills blaze red with warning; foes draw nigh.

Treading the dark with challenge and reply.
Behold the burdn of the prophet's vision—
The gathering hosts—the valley of Decision,

Dusk with the wings of eagles wheeling o'er.

Day of the Lord, of darkness, and not light!

It breaks in thunder and the whirlwind's roar!

Even so, Father! Let thy will be done—
Turn and o'erturn, end what thou hast begun
In judgment or in mercy; and as for me,
If but the least and frailest, let me be
Evermore numbered with the truly free;
Who find thy service perfect liberty!
I fain would thank Thee that my mortal life
Has reached the hour—albeit through care and pain
When Good and Evil, as for final strife,

Close dim and vast on Armageddon's plain;

And Michael and his angels once again

Drive howling back the spirits of the night.

Oh for the faith to read the signs aright,

And from the angel of thy perfect sight,

See Truth's white banner floating on before;

And the good cause, despite of venial friends,

And base expedient, move to noble ends:

See Peace with Freedom make no Time amends.

And thro' its clouds of dust, the threshing floor,

Failed by thy thunder, heaped with chaffless grain!

J.G. Whittier (John Greenleaf Whittier)

1:6, p. 4

9.7.1861