Rugged Roman, thou that wieldiest
Sword and saber, spike and spear,
Iron-clad and iron-hearted,
Soul unmoved by mortal fear.
Ruler of an empire, glorying
In the light of peace imposed;
All thy hated foes securely
In a Caesar's grasp enclosed.
Seven hills on tawny Tiber
Vied with distant Ararat;
Sabine forests overwhelmed the
Valley of Jehoshaphat.
Though thine armies trample Zion,
Israel's King thou didst not see,
For thine eyes could ne'er envisage
Him from whom thy heart would flee.
Vast the legions thou hast garnished,
Temples splendid, columns grand;
Lo! beneath a rod of iron
Broken, dashed, returned to sand.
Who shall stand when He appeareth?
Who may e'er abide His day?
Kiss the Son lest He be angry
And ye perish from the way.
John Cochrane