See the prancing steed is foaming,
Eager to enjoy the strife;
As it is in exact keeping
With the habits of his life.

With the blood up to the bridle,
He is coursing o'er the plain;
And the fields are thickly lying
With the bodies of the slain.

Men engaged in deadly conflict,
Who did heretofore agree,
Brother against brother striving,
Desperate, yet ignobly.

Why are men thus in confusion,
Scarcely dreaming what they do,
Arming to engage a foeman,
Yet not really knowing who?

Are they making preparation
For a future deadly blow—
The great work of 'Armageddon'
To be fought on earth below?

Where the birds shall all be gather'd,
To enjoy a feast of God;
And the nations will be smitten
By His dire avenging rod.

These are surely times of trouble;
Men are fill'd with dread dismay,
Looking for what shall transpire,
At some future coming day,

When this planet shall be purged
Of its dross, its sin, and shame,
And the 'King' possess the kingdom,
And 'a thousand years shall reign.'