In days of death and poetry and awe,
Not in the flesh but in the soul I saw
A scaly thing clutch at the dying as he fell
With shrieking curse, midst stench and brimstone smell.
It’s course was rudely stopped by golden wing.
The man sprang free and soaring rose on high.
The roaring demon fell earthward with a cry,
The man released from bonds began to sing.
Christ’s blood had interposed and set him free,
That gracious blood was shed for you and me.
Released from the shadowlands we will be,
To stand in the light beside the golden sea,
And walk in the flesh upon the golden shore,
And with our King rejoice for evermore.