Rise my children from hoary tomb.
Let cindered ash and dust exhume.
Dry bones I will with flesh replace
and again re-sinew to run apace.

Archangel sound your trumpet horn,
O sons of man you are reborn.

Michael, raise the Heavenly Host,
for rides to battle, the Holy Ghost.

E’ re patient aeon my hand has stayed,
as I gathered lost sheep and flocks that strayed.
That precious remnant I now raise high,
with Me to rule and never die!

Soon dawns the time called Armageddon,
a day revealed midst skies so leaden.

Gathers the foe with his dreadful visage.
He assembles the mighty from all the lands:
false Gods they worship and blood on their hands.

The Anti-Christ harangues and shouts,
exhorting his armies and stifling their doubts.

I myself ordained this day,
for final cleansing and scourging raze.
The plain that stretches from Megiddo’s great Tell,
piled high with corpses and souls called to Hell.

And the Great Beast with his loathsome jeers,
cast down to the Pit for a thousand years.

The scavenging carrion pick at the bones
the battle now silent, no cries or groans.

Angelic chorus; hosannas ring,
as into Jerusalem comes its rightful King.

The Mount of Olives splits in two:
Again stands My Temple so precious its hue.

A living stream from Temple Mount,
waters the land with a living fount.

All now worship and fall on your knees,
The Messiah has heard your heart felt pleas.

All this is written and soon shall be.
May the Lord God preserve us
and so say we.

Denis Bowden.