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Sacra Poesis

By M. F. T. [i.e. M. F. Tupper]
 

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THE TEMPTATION ON THE MOUNT.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


47

THE TEMPTATION ON THE MOUNT.
[_]

(J. Martin.)

Behold me then, the Potentate of earth!
Behold how all creation trembling bends
And does me homage! kingdoms, nations, tongues,
With all the pomp and glory of this world,
All thrones, and princes; Asia's despot lord,
The vilest slave that kneels and licks the dust,
Thine Eden land of Holy Palestine,
Those emerald isles that gem the troubled main,
Yon desert sands, and Afric's swarthy sons
With the fair daughters of Europa's line
All kneel before me, Satan! king of kings,
God of the kingdoms of this world am I!
Bow then before me, helpless son of man,
Bend, and the vast dominion all is thine,

48

Without a pang,—without the cross,—thine own.
“Back, prince of darkness! back, nor tempt thy God;
“The Lord thy God, Him only shalt thou serve.
“This beauteous world shall never more be thine,
“But by my pow'r, and by my blood redeem'd
“The time shall come, when all shall own my sway;
“The kingdoms of this earth shall ever be
“God's and his Christ's.” Howling the baffled fiend
Fell at the word of promise; his proud mien,
And borrow'd garb of glory fell, and left
The serpent tempter grovelling in the dust,
While angels, glorying in their Master's pow'r,
Leap from high heav'n, and minister to Him.