"Go," said the Lord, "ye conquerors,
Steep in her blood your swords,
And raze to earth her battlements,
For they are not the Lord's.
Tell Zion's mournful daughter
O'er kindred bones she'll tread,
And Hinnom's vale of slaughter
Shall hide but half her dead.”
But soon shall other pictured scenes
In brighter visions rise,
When Zion's sun shall sevenfold shine
On all her mourners' eyes;
And on her mountains beauteous stand
The messengers of peace;—
“Salvation by the Lord's right hand!”
They shout and never cease.
&N Sinai's wide desert the tents are outspread, And thy pilgrims, O Israel, are free from their dread; For the hand of thy God was uplifted for thee, And the horse and his rider was dashed in the sea.
Then strike the loud cymbal; to him the glad voice
Be upraised with thanksgiving; come forth and rejoice!
For through sea, amid desert, in danger and night,
Is the arm of Jehovah thy succour and might!
From yon cloud-covered mount the dread thunders declare
That the Lord has descended in majesty there;
The fierce forms of the lightning gleam wild on its height,
And Israel bows down with dismay at the sight.
But though girt with his terrors, his mercy and care
'Mid the signs of his awe-striking presence are there :
Oh, exult, for the God of thy fathers and thee,
To his chosen this day hath revealed his decree !
OUND the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea;
Jehovah hath triumphed his people are free!
Sing-for the pride of the tyrant is broken;
His chariots and horsemen, all splendid and brave,
How vain was their boasting!-The Lord had but spoken,
And chariots and horsemen are sunk in the wave.
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea;
Jehovah hath triumphed-his people are free!
Praise to the Conqueror, praise to the Lord;
His word was our arrow, his breath was our sword!
Who shall return to tell Egypt the story
Of those she sent forth in the hour of her pride?
For the Lord hath looked out from his pillar of glory,
And all her brave thousands are dashed in the tide.
Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea;
Jehovah hath triumphed his people are free!
THE DESTRUCTION OF THE ASSYRIANS.
"Then the angel of the Lord went forth, and smote in the camp of the Assyrians an hundred and fourscore and five thousand: and when they arose early in the morning, behold they were all dead corpses." -ISA. xxxvii. 36.
HE Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset was seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever were still.
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider, distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpets unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord.
ROM Greenland's icy mountains,
From India's coral strand,
Where Afric's sunny fountains
Roll down their golden sand;
From many an ancient river,
From many a palmy plain,
They call us to deliver
Their land from error's chain!
What though the spicy breezes
Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle ;
Though every prospect pleases,
And only man is vile;
In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown,
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone!
Shall we, whose souls are lighted
With wisdom from on high,
Shall we to men benighted
The lamp of life deny?
Salvation! oh, salvation!
The joyful sound proclaim,
Till each remotest nation
Has learned Messiah's name!
Waft, waft, ye winds, his story,
And you, ye waters, roll,
Till, like a sea of glory,
It spreads from pole to pole!
Till o'er our ransomed nature,
The Lamb for sinners slain,
Redeemer, King, Creator,
In bliss returns to reign!
UT who shall see the glorious day,
When throned on Zion's brow,
The Lord shall rend that veil away
Which blinds the nations now?
When earth no more beneath the fear
Of his rebuke shall lie;
When pain shall cease and every tear
Be wiped from every eye?
Then, Judah! thou no more shalt mourn
Beneath the heathen's chain;
Thy days of splendour shall return,
And all be new again.
The fount of life shall then be quaffed,
In peace by all who come;
And every wind that blows shall waft
Some long lost exile home.
HERE may that glorious land be found
Which countless bards have sung;
The chosen of the nations crowned,
With fame for ever young-
A fame that filled the Grecian sea,
And rang through Roman skies?
Oh, ever bright that land must be,
But tell us where it lies.
The rose-crowned Summer ceaseless shines
On orient realms of gold,
The holy place of early shrines,
The fair, the famed of old:
But ages on their flood have borne
Away the loftiest fane,
Yet left upon the lands of morn
A still unbroken chain.
The West,-O! wide its forests wave;
But long the setting sun
Hath blushed to see the toiling slave
On fields for Freedom won :
Still mighty in their seaward path
Roll on their ancient floods,
That miss the brethren of their youth,
The dwellers of the woods.
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