“Tremble O earth at the presence of the Lord”
This vigil is the slack point of the tide.
All is withdrawn, an emptiness profound
Waits for its filling. All creation hangs
Waiting, and utters still its groaning sound.
Earths dreadful grief packed tight into one place,
Earth’s dreadful longing caught up in His cry.
Now, all is silence, yet, the echo hangs,
Tight in the void, awaiting God’s reply.
Surely He comes! The mighty Lord of Hosts
In His almighty mercy bends to save,
Taking upon Himself our sin, our pain,
Bearing it all, then ripping up the grave.
These are death’s death-throes in this slack-tide hour,
Waiting God’s coming, for He will, He will!
Tremble indeed before Love absolute,
For He is near, His promise to fulfill!