Wrath of God

I hear a bell,
T’is softly ringing.
Seems to foretell,
An angel singing,
Of death and glory,
that heaven is bringing.
To the ignorance of souls,
their minds they are flinging.
They doubt in their haste,
knowing nowt of disease.
They walk on their heels
doing whatever they please.
I'll take my whip of justice,
bring them to their knees.
They'll taste my wrath
like the raising of seas.
And the lands will be rid
of malice and hate.
They will realize their folly
one second too late.
Their lives will be taken,
they will come to my gate.
But the gate will be locked,
they'll not eat from my plate.
Their misery will be that
of a bottomless well.
A mire so deep into
which they all fell.
And they'll wish they had  listened
to the foretold angels bell.
Since now they are in pain,
and rotting in hell.
It is the first religious poem I have ever written and I think it has gone quite well.