The poetical works of Henry Alford Fifth edition, containing many pieces now first collected |
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 | The poetical works of Henry Alford |  |
I.
That wrath divine I sing, whose bitter curse
Weighed heavy on the race chosen of God;
What time the holy city, favoured once
With His high presence, was with armies girt,
And all her gladness into mourning turned.
Weighed heavy on the race chosen of God;
What time the holy city, favoured once
With His high presence, was with armies girt,
And all her gladness into mourning turned.
Say, thou who once above Jerusalem
Didst sheathe thy glittering sword, Angel of Death!
When the forewarnèd king his altar reared,
Humble, on Ornan's floor: for thou dost know
What first, what last, in process dread, went forth
From the Eternal's armoury of wrath,
Sorrow too vast for human heart to hold,
Destruction past example in all time.
Didst sheathe thy glittering sword, Angel of Death!
When the forewarnèd king his altar reared,
Humble, on Ornan's floor: for thou dost know
What first, what last, in process dread, went forth
From the Eternal's armoury of wrath,
Sorrow too vast for human heart to hold,
Destruction past example in all time.
But chiefly Thou, to whom the thoughts of men
Lie bare and open, from Thine inner stores
Take of the things divine, and show them me;
Much sought by nightly prayer and daily toil,
Shine on Thy servant, foolish else, and dark,
And all unfit to meditate high themes;
But haply, in Thy light beholding light,
Some rays of truth, though dimmed, he may reflect
Into the haunt and concourse of mankind,
And utter forth, in strains of solemn verse,
God's voice of warning to the sons of men.
Lie bare and open, from Thine inner stores
Take of the things divine, and show them me;
Much sought by nightly prayer and daily toil,
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And all unfit to meditate high themes;
But haply, in Thy light beholding light,
Some rays of truth, though dimmed, he may reflect
Into the haunt and concourse of mankind,
And utter forth, in strains of solemn verse,
God's voice of warning to the sons of men.
Tell first, what cause of moment did incite
A braham's Lord and Isaac's Fear, to thrust
Thus hotly from His presence, whom His arm
So long had shielded;—whom He planted in
The mountain of His own inheritance?
For not the murmurs on their desert path,
Massah, nor Meribah, nor those false signs
Remphan and Moloch, nor the offerings vile
Of Baal-peor, grieved Thee, Spirit divine,
As this, nor all the foul idolatries
Of Israel, or more cherished Judah, drove
The God of Jacob to cast off his own.
Nor yet that day, when Babylon's fierce king
Slew in the sanctuary all the flower of youth,
And burned the house of God, till that the land
Enjoyed her Sabbaths, might with this compare;
So foul the slaughter was: without, within,
Inexorable vengeance without stint
Launched its red shafts against the fated race.
Say, then, what cause aroused such wrath in Heaven?
A braham's Lord and Isaac's Fear, to thrust
Thus hotly from His presence, whom His arm
So long had shielded;—whom He planted in
The mountain of His own inheritance?
For not the murmurs on their desert path,
Massah, nor Meribah, nor those false signs
Remphan and Moloch, nor the offerings vile
Of Baal-peor, grieved Thee, Spirit divine,
As this, nor all the foul idolatries
Of Israel, or more cherished Judah, drove
The God of Jacob to cast off his own.
Nor yet that day, when Babylon's fierce king
Slew in the sanctuary all the flower of youth,
And burned the house of God, till that the land
Enjoyed her Sabbaths, might with this compare;
So foul the slaughter was: without, within,
Inexorable vengeance without stint
Launched its red shafts against the fated race.
Say, then, what cause aroused such wrath in Heaven?
The cry of holy blood: that on the soil
Relentless poured, sent upward unto God
Its dread and silent witness evermore:
Prophet and priest and heaven-sent messengers
Cast out and foully slain: but chiefly His,
That Man of sorrows. ....
Relentless poured, sent upward unto God
Its dread and silent witness evermore:
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Cast out and foully slain: but chiefly His,
That Man of sorrows. ....
| The poetical works of Henry Alford | |