The Fourteenth Chapter of Isaiah, Part 2

Prepare, the slaughtering sword prepare,
For Babylon's devoted sons;
The children from their mother tear,
Dash all your sins against the stones.

No more let Satan's offspring rise,
Or build the heaven-invading tower;
Your sins no more shall threat the skies,
But lose their being with their power.

For I (the Lord of Hosts hath said)

Will against Babylon rise up,
Throughout their towers destruction spread,
And quite cut off their latest hope.

Against them will I set My face,
The serpent's seed, the' accursed kin,
Being, remains, and name erase,
And cut off the whole brood of sin.

Satan his kingdom's fall shall see,
Its final period sin shall feel,
Destruction shall the besom be,
And sweep its last remains to hell.

The Lord of Hosts, the mighty Lord,
Hath sworn His promise to fulfil;
Surely I will perform My word,
The counsel of My sovereign will.

It shall be so: My word shall stand,
I will confirm the sure decree,
And break the' Assyrian in My land,
And set My captive people free.

My mountains shall lift up their head,
O'erlook the world and sin below;
My people shall on scorpions tread,
On sin — no more their bosom foe.

This is the purpose of My grace,
My grace which every soul may have;
This is the hand o'er Adam's race
Stretch'd out, and ready all to save.

The Lord of Hosts hath so decreed,
To save the faithful from all sin,
To make them saints and free indeed,
Entirely whole, and throughly clean.

The fix'd, unchangeable decree
What power can break or disannul?
It stood from all eternity
Confirm'd to every faithful soul.

Who can the will Divine withstand?

The will Divine its course shall have.
Who can turn back that outstretch'd hand,
Or teach his God how far to save?

Factors for hell, ye strive in vain
To limit His omnipotence;
Sin shall not in our flesh remain,
His perfect love shall drive it thence.

The poor shall on His promise feed,
The needy shall in peace lie down,
And wait to be for ever freed
From sin, and wear the conqueror's crown.

The Saviour's hand is stretch'd out still,
And still to sin we hear Him say, —
With famine I thy root will kill,
I will, I will thy remnant slay.

Howl, ye base advocates for sin,
Your giant chief hath lost his head:
Fallen is the mighty Philistine;
Goliath with his host is dead.

The dear remains of sin are gone,
And all dissolved its system is;
Not one of all the race, not one
Survives to break our perfect peace.

We now their faithful saying feel,
Who preach'd the all-redeeming Lord,
And saved from sin set to our seal,
And answer to the gospel word.

The Lord hath founded on a rock
His church, which never shall remove;
The gates of hell can never shock
His saints, when perfected in love.

This is the state which all may know,
To which His poor shall all attain,
Be as their sinless Lord below,
And glorious then for ever reign.