Classic Poem

Amid a herd of learned fools,
I traced old Epicurus' rules,
Through all the mazes of the schools,
And seldom deigned to pray:
But now no more his schemes prevail,
I veer to catch a different gale,
And to religion's harbour sail,
As reason points the way.

Arrayed in all the pomp of war,
The god ascends his burning car,
Quiver the lightnings from afar,
And the big clouds divide.
Involved in horrid gloom he flies
Impetuous, down the passive skies,
While, round his throne, loud tempests rise,
And fires before him glide.

Heaven shrinks beneath his rolling wheels,
His thunder shakes the eternal hills,
And the vast flood her bed reveals,
To shun the approaching god.
E'en the deep vaults of hell below,
Where streams of endless torments flow,
Tremble, while horrid lightnings glow
Through all the dark abode.

Almighty God! Eternal King!
Who can thy matchless glories sing?
From thee, the fates of nations spring,
And tyrants own thy sway;
Whose power can pull the mighty down,
Exalt the peasant to a throne,
And place the deeds of hands unknown,
Amid the blaze of day.