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Sacra Poesis

By M. F. T. [i.e. M. F. Tupper]
 

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PROPHETIC VISION.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

PROPHETIC VISION.

The hoary prophet stands on Anathoth,
Or sedgy banks of Chebar's hated stream,
Or Babel's idol-temple, or the throne
Of long-forgotten glory, Nineveh;
And rapt in holy trance, the Spirit of God
Unseals his eye, unstops his ear, unveils
Ages and deeds to come, unfolds the book
Of Providence, and destiny foreseen,
And brings all time before him in review.
As when the schoolboy marks the speckled trout

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Lie basking in the sunny shallow brook,
And quick with beating heart, and trembling hand
Flings the smooth pebble,—swiftly glides away
The shadowy fish, and round and round the spot
Concentric circles curve in fainter sweep;
Or, as when from the perfum'd lap of earth
Rise the soft dews to meet the morning sun,
Loving they curl around his blushing face,
And leave him as a brilliant central gem
Set in an onyx; thus before the gaze
Of Daniel or Ezekiel, ages throng'd
In circling haloes, in concentric rings.
They saw at once, and in one phrase express'd,
(One phrase, the seed of volumes,) Judah's crimes,
And Babel's tyranny, and Christ denied
By lost Jerusalem, whom Roman bands
Left as a shed in a dismantled vineyard:
They saw sad Zion's dreary widowhood

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And final glory; and at one bright glance
Centuries, millenaries met their view,
'Till gulph'd in fathomless eternity.
Thus let blind godless men perversely talk
Of Scripture's mystic and ambiguous terms,
And liken them to heathen oracles
Of Python, or Dodona, or the seat
Of torrid Ammon; let their ignorance
Judge wisdom foolishness; the Christian's mind
Can see God's providence, wheel within wheel,
Working in beautiful analogy.