Were Certainly Sure

We’re certainly sure,
And shall evermore,
That ll the Religion of Man is impure.

An Angel of Death,
Who pours forth the Wrath
Of God, the Eternal, upon our vile Earth.

His Vial took up,
And pour’d out each Drop,
Our Flesh to consume thus he emptied his Cup.

Then spake, as new Life,
To end all my Strife,
Come hither, I’ll shew thee the Bride, the Lamb’s Wife.

In Spirit he caught
Me, swift as a Thought,
From Adam the earthly he quickly me brought.

Up where the Lamb stands,
In the midst of his Friends;
A Mountain whose Top above Heaven ascends.

Our Nature made clean,
As Jesus is seen,
Is th’ holy high Mountain which I do here mean.

Brought here to abide,
I quickly espy’d,
In all her Adorning, the beautiful Bride.

Most glorious her Name,
And free from all Blame,
The holy Jerusalem, Wife of the Lamb.

From Heav’n coming down,
An eternal Renown,
As having the Glory of God for her own.

Most precious her Light,
As Jasper is bright,
Yea, clear as the Crystal appears to the Sight.