Classic Poem

The beasts affrighted leave their play,
And scour along the plain;
Thick gloom obscures the face of day,
And furious beats the rain;

Men from their work to shelter fly,
Warn'd by the troubled air:
Loud peals of thunder rend the sky,
And lurid light'nings glare.

Now louder bursts of thunder roll
Terrific on my ear,
And seem to rend the shaking pole,
Or crush the sinking sphere.

The horrors of the scene around
Increas'd by silent gloom,
Save where the peals of thunder sound,
And light'ning's fires illume.

O may the trembling wretch be spar'd
With secret guilt opprest!
How small, alas! the storm compar'd
To that within his breast!

He thinks almighty ire proclaim'd
In ruin round him spread,
And each successive stroke as aim'd
At his devoted head:

Fain would he from the danger fly,
His feet refuse t'obey;
And fain implore the pitying sky,
But knows not how to pray.

The good man unapall'd by fears
Views nature's troubled form,
His God he in the thunder hears,
And sees him in the storm.

He knows who spreads the gloom around,
And bids the thunders rise,
Again will quickly calm the sound,
And chear with light the skies.

Or on his head should thunder fall,
Its stroke he would defy,
The welcome message sent to call,
And bear him to the sky.