 | Scenes from Scripture with Other Poems |  |
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MALACHI.
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“For, behold, the day cometh that thou shalt burn as an oven: and all the proud, ye and all that do wickedly, shall be stubble. And the day that cometh shall burn them up, saith the Lord of Hosts; that it shall leave them neither root nor branch.”—1, 2.“But, unto you that fear my name shall the Sun of Righteousness arise, with healing on his wings.“Behold, I will send you Elijah, the Prophet, before the coming of the Great Day of the Lord; and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers.”—Malachi iii, 1, &c.
A sound on the rampart,
A sound at the gate!
I hear the roused lioness
Howl to her mate:
In the thicket, at midnight,
They crouch for the prey,
That shall glut their red jaws,
At the rising of day.
For wrath is descending
On Zion's proud tower;
It shall come like a cloud,
It shall wrap like a shroud,
Till, like Sodom, she sleeps
In a sulphurous shower.
A sound at the gate!
I hear the roused lioness
Howl to her mate:
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They crouch for the prey,
That shall glut their red jaws,
At the rising of day.
For wrath is descending
On Zion's proud tower;
It shall come like a cloud,
It shall wrap like a shroud,
Till, like Sodom, she sleeps
In a sulphurous shower.
For, behold! the day cometh,
When all shall be flame,
Thy robe shall be sackcloth,
Thy glory be shame.
When thy tree by the lightnings
From Earth shall be riven,
When thy bark o'er the billows
Of death shall be driven;
When the oven, unkindled
By mortal, shall burn,
And, like chaff, thou shalt glow
In that furnace of woe,
And, dust as thou art,
Thou to dust shalt return.
When all shall be flame,
Thy robe shall be sackcloth,
Thy glory be shame.
When thy tree by the lightnings
From Earth shall be riven,
When thy bark o'er the billows
Of death shall be driven;
When the oven, unkindled
By mortal, shall burn,
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In that furnace of woe,
And, dust as thou art,
Thou to dust shalt return.
Thou shalt die, and yet know not
The rest of the grave;
Thou shalt live, and yet live
To be only a slave!
Thou shalt die, and yet shrink
At thy conqueror's tread;
Thou shalt live, yet the sword
With thy carnage be fed!
The pilgrim of nations!
Still destined to roam,
On thy neck, on thy brain,
Still feeling the chain,
And, though wandering through Earth,
Never finding a home!
The rest of the grave;
Thou shalt live, and yet live
To be only a slave!
Thou shalt die, and yet shrink
At thy conqueror's tread;
Thou shalt live, yet the sword
With thy carnage be fed!
The pilgrim of nations!
Still destined to roam,
On thy neck, on thy brain,
Still feeling the chain,
And, though wandering through Earth,
Never finding a home!
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As the surges of war
O'er Earth's diadems roll,
Still, Judah, the iron
Shall enter thy soul;
The Eagle, the Cross,
And the Crescent, shall shine,
But, Earth shall awake
To no banner of thine!
Thy morning in sorrow,
Thy evening in fear.
They shall rise, they shall fall,
Thou the serf of them all!
Thy haunt be the dungeon,
Thy bed be the bier.
O'er Earth's diadems roll,
Still, Judah, the iron
Shall enter thy soul;
The Eagle, the Cross,
And the Crescent, shall shine,
But, Earth shall awake
To no banner of thine!
Thy morning in sorrow,
Thy evening in fear.
They shall rise, they shall fall,
Thou the serf of them all!
Thy haunt be the dungeon,
Thy bed be the bier.
'Tis the darkness of darkness,
The midnight of soul!
No moon on the depths
Of that midnight shall roll;
No starlight shall pierce
Through that life-chilling haze
No torch from the roof
Of the Temple shall blaze.
But, when Israel is buried
To final despair,
From a height o'er all height,
God of God, Light of Light,
Her Sun shall arise,
Her Redeemer be there!
The midnight of soul!
No moon on the depths
Of that midnight shall roll;
No starlight shall pierce
Through that life-chilling haze
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Of the Temple shall blaze.
But, when Israel is buried
To final despair,
From a height o'er all height,
God of God, Light of Light,
Her Sun shall arise,
Her Redeemer be there!
Who rushes from Heaven?
The Angel of Wrath!
The whirlwind his wing,
And the lightning his path;
His hand is uplifted,
It carries a sword;
'Tis Elijah! he heralds
The march of his Lord!
Sun! sink in eclipse,
Earth, Earth, shalt thou stand,
When the cherubim wings
Bear the King of all Kings.
Woe, woe to the Ocean,
Woe, woe, to the Land;
The Angel of Wrath!
The whirlwind his wing,
And the lightning his path;
His hand is uplifted,
It carries a sword;
'Tis Elijah! he heralds
The march of his Lord!
Sun! sink in eclipse,
Earth, Earth, shalt thou stand,
When the cherubim wings
Bear the King of all Kings.
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Woe, woe, to the Land;
Then the sparkles of flame,
From His chariot-wheels hurled,
Shall smite the crowned brow
Of the God of this World;
Then, captive of ages!
The trumpet shall thrill
From the lips of the Seraph,
On Zion's proud hill!
For, vestured in glory,
Thy Monarch shall come,
And from dungeon and cave
Shall ascend the pale slave;
Lost Judah shall rise,
Like the soul from the tomb!
From His chariot-wheels hurled,
Shall smite the crowned brow
Of the God of this World;
Then, captive of ages!
The trumpet shall thrill
From the lips of the Seraph,
On Zion's proud hill!
For, vestured in glory,
Thy Monarch shall come,
And from dungeon and cave
Shall ascend the pale slave;
Lost Judah shall rise,
Like the soul from the tomb!
'Tis the day long foretold,
'Tis the judgment begun;
Gird Thy sword, Thou most Mighty,
Thy triumph is won;
The idol shall burn
In his own gory shrine,
Then, daughter of anguish,
Thy dayspring shall shine!
Loved Zion, thy vale
With the vineyard shall bloom,
And the musk-rose distil
Its sweet dews on thy hill;
For Earth is restored—
The Great Kingdom is come!
'Tis the judgment begun;
Gird Thy sword, Thou most Mighty,
Thy triumph is won;
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In his own gory shrine,
Then, daughter of anguish,
Thy dayspring shall shine!
Loved Zion, thy vale
With the vineyard shall bloom,
And the musk-rose distil
Its sweet dews on thy hill;
For Earth is restored—
The Great Kingdom is come!
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