 | Scenes from Scripture with Other Poems |  |
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JOHN THE BAPTIST.
“In those days came John the Baptist, preaching in the wilderness of Judæa.
“And saying, Repent ye, for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand.
“And the same John had his raiment of camels' hair.
“Then went out to him Jerusalem, and all Judæa, and all the region round about Jordan.
“But, when he saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees come to his
baptism, he said unto them: O, generation of vipers, who hath warned you
to flee from the wrath to come?
“But He that cometh after me is mightier than I.
“Whose fan is in His hand, and He will thoroughly purge His floor.”—
Matthew iii, 1.
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Why rush the wild thousands
From Salem's proud towers?
Why rush the wild thousands
From Jericho's bowers?
From the vine-covered valley,
The olive-hill's side,
From the cot, from the palace,
Still rushes the tide!
The priest and the warrior,
The lord and the slave;
Still onward they pour
To the willow-wreathed shore,
Where the Wilderness glitters
With Jordan's bright wave.
From Salem's proud towers?
Why rush the wild thousands
From Jericho's bowers?
From the vine-covered valley,
The olive-hill's side,
From the cot, from the palace,
Still rushes the tide!
The priest and the warrior,
The lord and the slave;
Still onward they pour
To the willow-wreathed shore,
Where the Wilderness glitters
With Jordan's bright wave.
What seek they? A prince,
In his tunic of gold!
What seek they? A chief,
Like their warriors of old.
When the Maccabee scythe
Mowed the Syrian's mailed hordes,
And Arabia was tame
At the blaze of their swords.
But the Heaven-doomed Roman
Has levelled the throne;
And like dust on the gale,
And like rust on the mail,
The old lion-banner
Is shattered and gone.
In his tunic of gold!
What seek they? A chief,
Like their warriors of old.
When the Maccabee scythe
Mowed the Syrian's mailed hordes,
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At the blaze of their swords.
But the Heaven-doomed Roman
Has levelled the throne;
And like dust on the gale,
And like rust on the mail,
The old lion-banner
Is shattered and gone.
Hark! the shouts of the host
As they sweep o'er the plain;
See their gesture of triumph,
Their glance of disdain.
“All hail to the Prophet!
Four hundred long years
Have scourged us with scorpions,
Have steeped us in tears.
But, the kingdom is coming,
Its Herald has come.
Now the Roman shall feel
The tramp of our heel,
And the gods of the Gentile
Shall plunge in the tomb.”
As they sweep o'er the plain;
See their gesture of triumph,
Their glance of disdain.
“All hail to the Prophet!
Four hundred long years
Have scourged us with scorpions,
Have steeped us in tears.
But, the kingdom is coming,
Its Herald has come.
Now the Roman shall feel
The tramp of our heel,
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Shall plunge in the tomb.”
'Tis the Prophet of prophets,
For ages foretold,
Of the race that the thunders
O'er Palestine rolled.
With a voice that now saves,
And a voice that now stings,
Rebuker of people,
Rebuker of kings.
His eye like the flash,
As it darts from the cloud.
The camels'-hair fold
Round his limbs' giant mould,
And a forehead, to all but Jehovah unbowed.
For ages foretold,
Of the race that the thunders
O'er Palestine rolled.
With a voice that now saves,
And a voice that now stings,
Rebuker of people,
Rebuker of kings.
His eye like the flash,
As it darts from the cloud.
The camels'-hair fold
Round his limbs' giant mould,
And a forehead, to all but Jehovah unbowed.
He speaks—all are hushed.
On his lip burns the coal;
The flame from the altar,
The voice of the soul!
“Ho! leaders of Israel,
Blind guides of the blind,
With madness before you,
And vengeance behind;
Repent, for the time
Of Messiah is nigh;
For the firebrand shall glow
O'er your city of woe,
And the axe at the root
Of your grandeur shall lie.
On his lip burns the coal;
The flame from the altar,
The voice of the soul!
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Blind guides of the blind,
With madness before you,
And vengeance behind;
Repent, for the time
Of Messiah is nigh;
For the firebrand shall glow
O'er your city of woe,
And the axe at the root
Of your grandeur shall lie.
“Why comes the proud Pharisee,
Scorn in his eye?
Why comes the proud Sadducee,
Looking a lie?
Ye sons of the hypocrites,
Howl in despair.
Ye kindred of Spoil,
In its doom ye shall share.
For the harvest is gathered,
The fan in the hand,
Ye bosoms of stone,
Ye infidels, groan;
In the day of His vengeance,
What mortal shall stand?
Scorn in his eye?
Why comes the proud Sadducee,
Looking a lie?
Ye sons of the hypocrites,
Howl in despair.
Ye kindred of Spoil,
In its doom ye shall share.
For the harvest is gathered,
The fan in the hand,
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Ye infidels, groan;
In the day of His vengeance,
What mortal shall stand?
“He stoops from His throne,
Yet, is mighty to save;
The prisoner of Death,
Yet, the Lord of the Grave!
The King of all Kings
As a slave shall expire,
But his words shall be Spirit,
His Baptism be fire.
Then Judah shall perish
In famine and gore,
Till the trumpet shall sound,
And the dead be unbound,
And Messiah be Monarch,
And Time be no more.”
Yet, is mighty to save;
The prisoner of Death,
Yet, the Lord of the Grave!
The King of all Kings
As a slave shall expire,
But his words shall be Spirit,
His Baptism be fire.
Then Judah shall perish
In famine and gore,
Till the trumpet shall sound,
And the dead be unbound,
And Messiah be Monarch,
And Time be no more.”
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