The Gospel Miracles :: :: University of Virginia Library

And there in crowded stalls appear
The bleating sheep, the lowing steer,
Join'd with the turtle's ceaseless moan:
And there, on yonder tables' range,
Their coins the money-barterers change;
And Mammon holds his mart hard by Jehovah's throne.

I guess the cause: from far away
The scatter'd sons of Israel come,
The appointed sacrifice to pay,
And bow in God's appointed dome.
And so, the pilgrim train before,
Thy merchants, Salem, spread their store;
That each, in homage to his King,
Some from the costlier flock or herd,
Meet offering some of meaner bird,
And some of Judah's coin the stated gift may bring.

But say, the fatted beast to stall,
And urge the money-changer's trade,
Fit cause too oft for angry brawl,
Too oft for fraud and plunder made,
No place can Salem's streets supply,
But Sion's Temple, where the High
And Holy One his name hath fix'd;
And calls his votaries to repair
To his own house, his house of pray'r,
Most grateful then, when least with earthly passions mix'd?

What if a reverence more profound,
A holier awe, ye think, may dwell
Within the temple's inner bound,
Where meet the sons of Israel;

Yet shall not they, of alien race,
Who tread the temple's outer space,
There worship, safe from sounds profane?
And He, who gives that house to bear
His own dread name, his love to share,
Say, shall not He his right o'er all the house maintain?

So teaches One, within the fane
Whom now ye see with pow'r appear.
The Temple's Lord, from worldly stain
He comes the temple's courts to clear.
As from some royal raiment's fold,
Rich cloth of silver or of gold,
Each spot the fuller clears away;
Or as the ore the finer fines,
Till forth the precious metal shines,
Purg'd from the dross impure with unimpeded ray:

So shall He sit and purify
The house, the rites, the priests of God;
And to his haughty foes apply
The terrors of his vengeful rod.
Then who among the sons of pride
Shall brook his wrath, or who abide
The coming of that fiery day?—
Suffice him now, yon crowd profane
From deeds unhallow'd to restrain,
And 'mid his temple-courts that desecration stay.

A scourge of twisted bulrush wrought,
No harsher weapon needs He ply:
And they that sold, and they that bought,
And sheep and steers before Him fly.
The exchangers from their seat He spurns;
The tables, heap'd with coins, o'erturns;

And “Hence,” with voice indignant cries;
(That voice the crowds submissive own,)
“Hence, with these things profane, begone;
Nor make my Father's house a house of merchandize!”

Full well I deem those words were said,
And well I deem that deed was done,
That He might thence stand forth display'd
The eternal Father's only Son.
I deem that He, who thus could speak,
Whom thus, of human semblance weak,
At once the fear-struck crowds obey;
What tho' a servant's form He wear,
Thus claims, his Father's rightful heir,
His own paternal house with filial pow'r to sway.

Nor less I deem, this sign of pow'r
Once and again by Him was done;
Once, in his glory's morning hour,
Again, ere set his evening sun;
To shew that none, who humbly seek
The house of God with spirit meek,
Shall fail his watchful eye to share;
And none with earth's defilements base
May dare to mar the holy place,
Which God proclaims his own, and calls to worship there.

His house to Salem's gates no more,
And Sion's pleasant hill confin'd,
Himself hath spread earth's empire o'er,
Where flows the sea, where breathes the wind.
No parting walls with pillar'd pride
Now each from each its courts divide;

No scrolls with stern inscription say,
“The chosen race may pass within,”
While those less favour'd 'mid the din
Of men and stabled beasts may worship as they may.

Who in his courts would worship now,
The unfolded gates receive them there,
To pour the unmolested vow,
The sacred peacefulness of pray'r.
There may the quiet heart rejoice
To lift devotion's humble voice;
There with attention's stedfast ear
Drink from the well of truth divine;
And to Jehovah's inmost shrine
Draw with unfeigned faith and true repentance near.

Seek ye his house, who name his name!
Within his house himself is found.
There give him all his honour's claim,
“The place ye tread is holy ground!”
Far thence the cares of mortal life,
The thirst of gold, the din of strife,
The thought which cleaves to earth be driven!
“How dreadful is that holy place!”
How full of majesty and grace!
“Behold the house of God! behold the gate of heaven!”