« ForrigeFortsæt »
“ It is I, it is I, who have risen at length
And why, 0 thou Victor, and why thus imbue
“ I have trodden the wine-press of Edom alone;
There was not a helper in Israel that day,
But I have arisen-arisen at length,
Thou art our Father, Lord, our Lord,
And thou wilt every want fulfil
Though mute within thy walls we stand,
Nor harp, por tabret's sound is there;
SAUL JOURNEYING TO DAMASCUS, &c.
We turn to it, from those more painful | Thy dwellings all lie desolate; themes,
Thy children weep in chains. Iscariot's treachery, and Peter's fear, Where are the dews that fed thee The priest's hypocrisy, the soldier's cruel On Etham's barren shore ?
That fire from Heaven which led thee,
Now lights thy path no more !
Then sank the star of Solyma;
Like heath that in the wilderness
The wild wind whirls away.
Silent and waste her bowers
Where once the mighty trod,
And sunk those guilty towers, Whose is tbat sword-that voice and eye of
Where Baal reigned as God. flame That heart of anextinguishable ire ?
“Go," saith the Lord, “ye conquerors! Who bears the dangeon-keys, and bonds, Steep in their blood your swords; and fire ?
And raze to earth her battlements,
0'er kindred bones shall tread; Lo! THE LIGHT shone! the sun's veiled
And Hinnom's hall of slaughter beams expire
Shall hide but half her dead." A Saviour's self a Saviour's lips proclaim ! Whose is yon form, stretched on the earth's “ But soon shall other pictur'd scenes, cold bed,
In brighter visions rise, With smitten soul and tears of agony
When Zion's sun shall seven-fold shine Mourning the pastBowed is the lofty O'er all her mourner's eyes; head
And on her beauteous mountain stand Rayless the orbs that flashed with victory. The messenger of peace : Over the raging waves of human will “Salvation by the Lord's right hand !" The Saviour's spirit walked—and all was They shout and never cease!
King of the dead, how long shall sweep THE DESTRUCTION OF BABYLON. Thy wrath ? how long thy outcasts weep ?--Reo. xiv. 8. xviii. 2--23.
Two thousand agonizing years
Has Israel steep'd her bread in tears :
The vial on her head been pour'd,-She is fall’n! she is fall'n! from the height Flight, famine, shame, the scourge, the of her glory!
sword! And lowly in ruin she lies :No more shall her greatness be sounded in 'Tis done! Has breath'd thy trumpet blast, story
The Tribes at length have wept their last ! No more shall her praises arise.
On rolls the host! from land and wave
The earth sends up the unransomed slave : One moment beheld her in brightness and There rides no glittering chivalry, beauty
No banner purples in the sky; Erecting her head undefied;
The world within their hearts hath died ; 'Tis past—and the storm, in the zeal of its Two thousand years have slain their pride! daty,
The look of pale remorse is there, Has blasted the bloom of her pride. The lip-involuntary prayer;