CCCLVI. Victory over Satan by the Blood of the Lamb, and the Word of the Testimony of his Servants.

SEE the old Dragon from his Throne
Sink with enormous Ruin down!
Banish'd from Heav'n, and doom'd to dwell
Deep in the fiery Gloom of Hell!

Ye Heav'ns with all your Hosts, rejoice:
Ye Saints, in Consort lend your Voice:
Approach your Lord's victorious Seat,
And tread the Foe beneath your Feet.

But whence a Conquest so divine
Gain'd by such feeble Hands as mine?
Or whence can sinful Mortals boast
O'er Satan and his rebel Host?

'Twas from thy Blood, Thou slaughter'd Lamb,
That all our Palms and Triumphs came;
Thy Cross, thy Spear inflicts the Stroke,
By which the Monster's Head is broke.

Thy faithful Word our Hope maintains
Thro' all our Combate and our Pains;
The Accents of thy heav'nly Breath
Thy Soldiers bear thro' Wounds and Death.

Triumphant Lamb, in Worlds unknown,
With Transport round thy radiant Throne,
Thy happy Legions, all compleat,
Shall lay their Laurels at thy Feet.