509. Flavor Lament

Here's a weird conceit for a hymn – building it on metaphors for the different tastes detectable to the human tongue. I debated changing the order of the stanzas to put the end-timey bits last, but somehow the original order in which I wrote them won out. I suppose you could explain it as the kind of lament where the faithful heart first cries out in the heat of anguish for the end of the world, then cools down a bit and admits that it wouldn't hurt for the Lord to give the ungodly another chance or two. I'm not thinking of any particular tune as I write this, though I'm pretty sure there are some good existing hymn-tunes to choose from.

Oh, bitter bonds and labor!
What sweat that stings the eyes,
That steals from food its savor
And cooling draft denies!
Oh, that the Lord would come,
Us into freedom leading
And richest marrow feeding,
All in one harvest-home!

Oh, salty tears of mourning!
What dread weighs on the heart!
The world in pangs aborning
Cries as if torn apart.
Oh, that our Light would rise,
Deliver us with fleetness,
And kiss with perfect sweetness
Our sore and weary eyes!

Oh, acid words of mocking!
How the ungodly rage,
Their ears with malice blocking
The words that strife assuage!
Oh, that a trumpet-blast
Would shake men's jaded senses,
And He who truth dispenses
May pierce their hearts at last!

O Christ, whose word and actions
Set many teeth on edge,
Strike dumb the brawling factions;
Convict them of Your pledge.
Pour that which pleases heav'n
Upon their sins; despite them,
Into Your feast invite them;
God's wrath with mercy leav'n!