 | Sacra Poesis |  |
CHRIST CLEANSING THE TEMPLE.
Then, in the fervour of His zeal outshoneOffended Deity; the knotted cords
Became as dreadful in that mighty hand,
As erst the sword that blaz'd round Eden's gates,
Or the red bolts of heathen Jupiter.
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There, from the presence of their God incens'd
The bleating flocks, and lowing cattle fly
And throng the Temple porch; and panicstruck
The merchant-crowd is scattered, as they hear
Th' unearthly thunder of Messiah's voice,
“Make not my Father's house a den of thieves!”
| Sacra Poesis | |