Habakkuk 3

Great God, with terror I have heard thy Doome;
The fearefull punishments that are to come:
Yet in the midst of those devouring Yeares,
Then when thy Vengeance shall exceed our Feares,
Thy Worke in us revive; confirme our Faith,
And still remember Mercy in thy Wrath.
God came from Theman, and the Holy-one
From Parans Mountaine, where his Glory shone:
Which fil'd the heav'ns themselves with brighter Raies;
And all the Earth replenisht with his Praise.
His Brightnesse as the Suns: his Fingers Streames
Of Light project; his Power hid in those Beames.
Devouring Pestilence before him flew,
And wasting Flames his dreadfull Steps pursue.
Then fixt his Feet, and measur'd with his Eyes
The Earths Extent: pale Feares her Sons surprise,
The ancient Mountaines shrunke; eternall Hils
Stoopt to their Bases; All Amazement fils.
His Glory and his Terrour he displaies,
In his unknowne and everlasting Waies.
I saw th' afflicted Tents of Cushan quake,
And Midians Cortines in that Tempest shake.
When thou, O Lord, the Rivers didst divide;
And on the Chariots of Salvation ride,
Through the congested Billowes of the Seas:
Was it because thou wast displeas'd with these?
According to thy Oath thou drew'st thy Sword;
Thy Oath sworne to our Tribes; thy constant Word.
From cloven Rocks new Torrents tooke their flight,
And ayery Mountaines trembled at thy sight:
The over-flowing Streames inforce their Wayes;
The Deeps to Thee their Hands and Voyces raise;
The Sunne and Moone obedient to Command,
Till then in restlesse Motion, made a Stand.
Thy Darts and flaming Arrowes, swift as Sight;
Confound thy Foes, but give thy People Light.
He, in his Fury, marched through the Land;
And crusht the Heathen with a vengefull Hand.
Th' Anointed, with thy Sword, their Leaders slew;
The Joynts disclos'd, where Heads of Princes grew.
With thy transfixing Speare their Subjects strake:
Who like a blacke and dreadfull Tempest brake
Vpon our Front, with purpose to devoure,
And triumph over our despised Power.
He through the roaring Flouds his People guides:
Through yielding Seas on fiery Horses rides.
When I thy Threatnings heard, my entrails shooke;
And my unnerved knees each other strooke.
My lips with panting swell, my cheeks grow wan;
Through all my bones a swift Consumption ran.
O where may I repose in that sad Day,
When armed Troups upon my Countrey prey!
Although the Fig-tree shall no blossomes beare;
Nor Vines with their pure bloud the pensive cheare:
Although the Olive no requitall yield;
Nor Corne apparell the deserted Field:
Though then our Flocks be ravisht from the Fold,
And though our Stalls no well-fed Oxen hold:
Yet will not I despaire, but chearfully
Expect, and in thy knowne Salvation joy.
For thou my Strength and my Protection art:
My feet, more nimble then the flying Hart,
Ascend the Hils; where I, with holy fire,
Will sing thy Praises to my solemne Lyre.