Oliver Holden - Alibama - текст песни (слова)

The heart, dejected, sighs to know,
 Why vice triumphant reigns below;
 Why saints have fallen in every age,
 The victims of tyrannic rage.
 
 Fast roll successive years away;
 Fast hastens on the important day,
 When, to the astonished world's surprise,
 God's high tribunal shall arise.
 
 Hark! 'Tis the trumpet's piercing sound,
 The rising dead assemble round,
 In long procession see they come,
 Each to receive his righteous doom.
  
 Lo! there, a vile, degenerate race;
 Pale terror sits on every face:
 Here, on the right, a joyful band,
 The sons of suffering virtue stand.
 
 The sentence passed, lo! these arise
 To bliss and glory in the skies:
 While those, who once stood high in fame,
 Sink to contempt, remorse, and shame.
 
 Thus shall God's government appear
 Without a shade, divinely fair;
 And blushing doubts, with joy, confess,
 The Lord's a God of righteousness.