The nations rush as roaring seas They speak great things They scheme and plot their vanity And multiply Such clever follies; visions see Oh man, so wise Oh man, so wise Oh, woman Folly-clanging, loud A clanging thing Barren as winter, bitter as Wormwood gall Where are your children Whence this blood Apollyon Apollyon Oh, sons of men with bloody hands And violent loves Oh Molech's children, piling skulls Of little ones Empires of dirt, fell kings of rust Gehenna's lords Gehenna's lords But for all your words, oh man All your clever follies, and Your Babels piercing clouds You're just dust and potter's clay Kiss the son, lest in his way He dash you to the ground Who is this who speaks without Knowledge, and whose words abound Who utters such great things Gird up now your loins and hear Clever man, now learn to fear In sackcloth, clothe yourself But for all your words, oh man All your clever follies, and Your babels piercing clouds You're just dust and potter's clay Kiss the son, lest in his way He dash you to the ground