At the round earth's imagined corners blow br Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise br From death, you numberless infinities br Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go, br All whom the flood did, and fire shall, overthrow, br All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies, br Despair, law, chance, hath slain, and you whose eyes br Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe. br But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space, br For, if above all these my sins abound, br 'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace, br When we are there. Here on this lowly ground br Teach me how to repent; for that's as good br As if Thou'dst sealed my pardon, with Thy blood.