Charles Hubert Hastings Parry - At the round earth's imagined corners - текст песни (слова)

Holy Sonnet No. VII  At the round earth's imagined corners blow 
 Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
 From death, you numberless infinities
 Of souls and to your scattered bodies go!
 All whom the flood did, and fire shall overthrow,
 All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
 Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes 
 Shall behold God and never taste death's woe;
 But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
 For, if above all these my sins abound,
 'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace
 When we are there. Here on this lowly ground,
 Teach me how to repent; for that's as good
 As if Thou'dst sealed my pardon with Thy blood.