Awake! Awake! The final trumpet calls
the blessed to face the dawn and end their rest.
Rise up from outworn coffins; shed your palls;
they are not needed now. Your sins confessed,
your debts resolved, bright paradise awaits.

Who still bears his epitaph? Who carries hate
for deeds long gone? None, for those were shriven
during death's surprising course. Open, gates!
Let the multitudes come home, forgiven
of their early flaws, shining and redeemed.

Azazael, return to sky, esteemed
for desert labors done. Reveal your face,
fair Lucifer, discard your mask; the dreamed
of day is here, at last. Take your true place
at God's left side and savor your reward.

How many pass beneath my wings, restored
to breath and purified! The poor who tithed,
the meek who healed, the merciful whose swords
were sheathed - sing out, for those who strived
have won; God lives in you, His kingdom come.

The Hanged Man
Death
Temperance

The Devil
The Tower
The Star

The Moon
The Sun
Judgement

The World