Isaiah 22: Sin and Celebration

In Vision’s valley, veiled and vast,
Catastrophe the die is cast.
The slain surrendered not by sword,
The battlements are blast and bored.
The archers shoot in shining sheets,
The blazes burn, the bosoms beat.
The horses hounding all around,
The enemies, entrenched, abound.
But you yield to your armories,
Thus trusting in war weaponry.
And in your towers touting trust,
For thrilling sights your swords you thrust.
And then you rally to your roof,
From holocaust to hold aloof.
To dance and drink, and wink and woo,
As if no slaughter sallies through.
“Be merry men, tomorrow die!
No horror to our houses hies!”
But God has called for grieving here,
To tear your cloaks and call up tears.
Repent! This waring heed with woe,
And to your God, the Giver, go.
The folk who follow His advance,
Despair He drowns in holy dance!
He hews Himself a people high,
Who celebrate His season right.
Repent, rejoice, and fast and feast:
In timely place and propered piece.
So wail and weep for sinning stain,
With clamor joy that Jesus came!